


\Wf/ O o 




RAEMAEKERS' CARTOONS 



RAEMAEKERS' 
CARTOONS 



WITH ACCOMPANYING NOTES BY 
WELL-KNOWN ENGLISH WRITERS 




WITH AN APPRECIATION FROM H. H. ASQUITH, 
PRIME MINISTER OF ENGLAND 



GARDEN CITY NEW YORK 

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 

i 9 i 6 



J 






Copyright, igi6, by 
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 

All rights reserved, including that of 

translation into foreign languages, 

including the Scandinavian 



NOV -2 1916 



©CU445436 



List of Cartoons and the 
Descriptive Notes 



Portrait of Louis Raemaekers - 

Introduction Francis Slopford 

An Appreciation from the Prime Minister - - H.H. Asquith 

Christendom After Twenty Centuries - - Francis Stopford 8 

A Stable Peace Eden Phillpotts 10 

The Massacre of the Innocents - - - - E. Charles Vivian 12 

Bernhardiism ------- Hilaire Belloc 14 

From Liege to Alx-La-Chapelle - Francis Stopford 16 

Spoils for the Victors - Hilaire Belloc 18 

The Very Stones Cry Out ----- Bernard Vaugkan, S.J. 20 

Satan's Partner - - G.K. Chesterton 22 

Thrown to the Swine The Dean of St. Paul's 24 

The Land Mine - Herbert Warren 26 

"For Your Motherland" Eden Phillpotts 28 

The German Loan E. Charles Vivian 30 

Europe, 1916 - - G.K. Chesterton 32 

The Next to Be Kicked Out— Dumba's Master - Arthur Pollen 34 

The FRffiNDLY Visitor H. DeVere Stacpoole 36 

"To Your Health, Civilization!" - - - The Dean of St. Paul's 38 

Fox Thipitz Preaching to the Geese - - - Herbert Warren 40 

The Prisoners ------- Eden Phillpotts 42 

It's Unbeld2;vable - Hilaire Belloc 44 

Kreuzland, Kreuzland Uber Alles - - - The Dean of St. Paul's 46 

The Ex-convict ------- Hilaire Belloc 48 

Miss Cavell - - -\ - - - - -G.K. Chesterton 50 

The Hostages ------- j h n Oxenham 52 

King Albert's Answer to the Pope - - - E. Charles Vivian 54 

The Gas Fend ------- Eden Phillpotts 56 

The German Tango ------ j h n Buchan 58 

The Zeppelin Triumph W.L. Courtney 60 

Keeping Out the Enemy H. DeVere Stacpoole 62 

The German Offer Hilaire Belloc 64 

The Wolf Trap Herbert Warren 66 

Ahasuerus II John Buchan 68 

Our Candid Frdend The Dean of St. Paul's 70 



LIST OF CARTOONS AND THE DESCRIPTIVE NOTES 

PAGE 

Peace and Intervention ----- Boyd Cable 72 

Little Red Riding Hood ----- H. DeVere Stacpoole 74 

The Sea Mine - - Arthur PoUen 76 

"Seduction" - - - - - - - G.K. Chesterton 78 

Murder on the High Seas Arthur Pollen 80 

Ad Finem -------- John Oxenham 82 

"U'S" --------- Arthur Pollen 84 

Mater Dolorosa - Eden Phillpo ts 86 

"Gott Strafe Italdzn!" ----- Ralph D. Blumenf eld 88 

Serbia - Sir Sidney Lee 90 

"Just a Moment — I'm Coming" - Boyd Cable 92 

The Holy War Boyd Cable 94 

"Gott Mit Uns" ------- Eden Phillpotts 96 

The Widows of Belgium The Dean of St. Paul's 98 

The Harvest Is Ripe ------ William Mitchell Ramsay 100 

"Unmasked" Boyd Cable 102 

The Great Surprise G.K. Chesterton 104 

Thou Art the Man! John Oxenham 106 

Sympathy -------- Ralph D. Blumenfeld 108 

The Refugees - - Joseph Thorp 110 

"The Junker" ------- Clive Holland 112 

"AuMd^euDeFantomesTristesEtSansNombre" Alice Meynell 114 

Bluebeard's Chamber ------ William Mitchell Ramsay 116 

The Raid -------- Arthur Pollen 118 

Better a Living Dog Than a Dead Lion - - Arthur Shadwell 120 

"The Burden of the Intolerable Day" - - William Mitchell Ramsay 122 

Eagle in Hen-run Boyd Cable 124 

The Future -- Sidney Lee 126 

Christ or Odin? Bernard Vaughan 128 

Ferdinand -------- Edmund Gosse 130 

Juggernaut John Oxenham 132 

Michael and the Marks W. M. J. Williams 134 

Their Beresina ------- John Oxenham 136 

New Peace Offers W.L. Courtney 138 

The SHffiLDS of Rosselaere William Mitchell Ramsay 140 

The Obstinacy of Nicholas - Joseph Thorp 142 

The Order of Merit Ralph D. Blumenfeld 144 

The Marshes of Pinsk Alice Meynell 146 

Cod With Us ------- John Buchan 148 

Ferdinand the Chameleon - - - - -G.K. Chesterton 150 

The Latin Sisters ------ Horace Annesley Vachell 152 

Misunderstood ------- Joseph Thorp 154 

Prosperity Reigns in Flanders - - - - Cecil Chesterton 156 

The Last Hohenzollern - - - - - E. Charles Vivian 158 

Piracy Arthur PoUen 160 

"Weeping, She Hath Wept" ... - Father Bernard Vaughan 162 

Military Necessity ------ Eden Phillpotts 164 



LIST OF CARTOONS AND THE DESCRIPTIVE NOTES 

PAGE 

Liberte! Liberte, Cherie! .... JohnOxenham 166 

I — "A Knavish Pece of Work" --- - George Birdwood 168 

II— "Sisyphus,— His Stone" .... George Birdwood 170 

Concrete Foundations A. Shadwett 172 

Pallas Athene Herbert Warner 174 

The Wonders of Culture Clive Holland 176 

"Folk Who Do Not Understand Them" - - Bernard Vaughan 178 

On the Way to Calais - Eden Phillpotts 180 

Von Bethmann-Hollweg and Truth ... Herbert Warren 182 

Van Tromp and De Ruyter Arthur Pollen 184 

War and Christ Cecil Chesterton 186 

Barbed Whie E. Charles Vivian 188 

The Higher Politics Boyd Cable 190 

The Loan Game W. M.J. Williams 192 

\ War of Rapine - E. Charles Vivian 194 

The Dutch Junkers A. ShadweU 196 

The War Makers ------ j hn Oxenham 198 

The Christmas of Kultur, A.D. 1915 - - A. ShadweU 200 

Serbia -- Horace Annesley Vachell 202 

The Last of the Race ------ Arthur Pollen 204 

The Curriculum ------- w. M. J. Williams 206 

The Dutch Journalist to His Belgian Confrere G. K. Chesterton 208 

A Bored Critic - - Eden Phillpotts 210 

"The Peace Woman" - Clive Holland 212 

The Self-satisfed Burgher - - - - W.L. Courtney 214 

The Decadent John Oxenham 216 

Liquid Fire -------- Clive Holland 218 

Nish and Paris - - Sidney Lee 220 

Gott Strafe England! ------ Cecil Chesterton 222 

The Pacbftcist Kaiser (The Confederates) - Sidney Lee 224 

Dinant W.R. Inge 226 

"Hesperia" (Wounded FmsT) - H. DeVere Stacpoole 228 

Gallipoli - - - - - - - - G.K. Chesterton 230 

The Beginning of the Expiation - - -G.K. Chesterton 232 

The Shhjkers ------- Sidney Lee 234 

One of the Kaiser's Many Mistakes - - - John Oxenham 236 

Belgium in Holland Edmund Gosse 238 

Serbia William Mitchell Ramsay 240 

Jackals in the Political Field - Herbert Warren 242 

A Letter from the German Trenches - - Cecil Chesterton 244 

His Master's Voice - A. ShadweU 246 

Hun Generosity Horace Annesley Vachell 248 

Easter, 1915 G.K. Chesterton 250 

Pan Germanicus as Peace Maker ... Alfred Stead 252 

Gott Mit Uns Cecil Chesterlon 254 

Our Lady of Antwerp W.L. Courtney 256 

Deportation Cecil Chesterton 258 



LIST OF CARTOONS AND THE DESCRIPTIVE NOTES 

PAGE 

The German Band John Oxenham 260 

Arcades Ambo - - Horace Annesley Vachell 262 

"Is It You, Mother?" - - Sidney Lee 264 

The Fate of Flemish Art at the Hands of Kultur Arthur Morrison 266 

The Graves of All His Hopes - H. DeVere Stacpoole 268 
"My Slxth Son Is Now Lying Here— Where Are 

Yours?" - - H. DeVere Stacpoole 270 

Bunkered w.R. Inge 272 

Gott Strafe Verdun W.R. Inge 274 

The Last Throw e. Charles Vivian 276 

The Zeppelin Bag --.-__ dive Holland 278 
"Come In, Michael, I Have Had a Long Sleep" Horace Annesley Vachell 280 

Five on a Bench - - - - . . - G. K. Chesterton 282 

What About Peace, Lads? W.R. Inge 284 

The Liberators - - Joseph Thorp 286 

Tom Thumb and the Giant E. Charles Vivian 288 

"We Have Finished Off the Russians - - E. Charles Vivian 290 

Muddle Through ------- ciive Holland 292 

My Enemy Is My Best Friend - William Mitchell Ramsay 294 

How I Deal With the Small Fry ... ciive Holland 296 

The Two Eagles - - A. Shadwell 298 

London— Inside the Savoy E . Charles Vivian 300 

London— Outside the Savoy .... E . Charles Vivian 302 

The Invocation ------- A. Shadwell 304 



Introduction 



IOUIS RAEMAEKERS will stand out for all time as one of the supreme figures 
which the Great War has called into being. His genius has been enlisted 
j in the service of mankind, and his work, being entirely sincere and untouched 
by racial or national prejudice, will endure; indeed, it promises to gain strength 
as the years advance. When the intense passions, which have been awakened by this 
world struggle, have faded away, civilization will regard the war largely through these 
wonderful drawings. 



Before the war had been in progress many weeks the cartoons in the Amsterdam 
Telegraaf attracted attention in the capitals of Europe, many leading newspapers 
reproducing them. The German authorities, quick to realize their full significance, did 
all in their pov.er to suppress them. Through German intrigue Raemaekers has been 
charged in the Dutch Courts with endangering the neutrality of Holland and ac- 
quitted. A price has been set on his head, should he ever venture over the border. 

When he crossed to England, his wife received anonymous post-cards, warning 
her that his ship would certainly be torpedoed in the North Sea. The Cologne Gazette, 
in a leading article on Holland, threatens that country that "after the War Germany 
will settle accounts with Holland, and for each calumny, for each cartoon of Rae- 
maekers, she will demand payment with the interest that is due to her." Not since 
Saul and the men of Israel were in the valley of Elah fighting with the Philistines has 
so unexpected a champion arisen. With brush and pencil this Dutch painter will do 
even as David did with the smooth stone out of the brook : he will destroy the braggart 
Goliath, who, strong in his own might, defies the forces of the living God. 

When Mr. Raemaekers came to London in December, he was received by the 
Prime Minister, and was entertained at a complimentary luncheon by the Journalists 
of the British capital. Similar honour was conferred on him on his second visit. 
He was the guest of honour at the Savage Club ; the Royal Society of Miniature Painters 
elected him an Honorary Member. But it has been left to France to pay the most 
fitting recognition to his genius and to his services in the cause of freedom and truth. 
The Cross of the Legion of Honour has been presented to him, and on his visit to Paris 
this month a special reception is to be held in his honour at La Sorbonne, which is the 
highest purely intellectual reward Europe can confer on any man. 



The great Dutch cartoonist is now in his forty-seventh year. He was born in 
Holland, his father, who is dead, having been the editor of a provincial newspaper. 
His mother, who is still alive and exceedingly proud of her son's fame, is a German 



INTRODUCTION 

by birth, but rejoices that she married a Dutchman. Mr. Raemaekers, who is short, 
fair, and of a ruddy countenance, looks at least ten years younger than his age. He took 
up painting and drawing when quite young and learnt his art in Holland and in Brussels. 
All his life he has lived in his own country, but with frequent visits to Belgium and 
Germany, where, through his mother, he has many relations. Thus he knows by 
experience the nature of the peoples whom he depicts. 

For many years he was a landscape painter and a portrait painter, and made money 
and local reputation. Six or seven yeara ago he turned his attention to political work, 
and became a cartoonist and caricaturist on the staff of the Amsterdam Telegraaf, 
thus opening the way to a fame which is not only world-wide but which will endure 
as long as the memory of the Great War lasts. His ideas come to him naturally 
and without effort Suggestions do not assist him; they hinder him when he endeavours 
to act on them. He is an artist to his finger-tips and throws the whole force of his 
being into his work. Some years ago he married a Dutch lady, who is devoted to 
music, and they have three children, two girls and a boy (the youngest): the eldest is 
now twelve. Very happy in his home, Mr. Raemaekers has no ambitions outside it, 
except to go on with his work. A Teuton paper has declared that Raemaekers' car- 
toons are worth at least two Army Corps to the Allies. 

The strong religious tendency which so often distinguishes his work makes one 
instinctively ask to what Church does the artist belong. He replies that he belongs to 
none, but was brought up a Catholic, and his wife a Protestant, and the differences 
which in later life severed each from their early teaching caused them to meet on 
common ground. But the intense Christian feeling of these drawings is beyond cavil 
or dispute: they again and again bring home to the heart the vital truths of the Faith 
with irresistible force, and the artist ever expresses the Christianity, not perhaps of the 
theologian, but of the honest and kindly man of the world. 

Praise has been bestowal upon his work by several German papers — qualified 
praise. The Leipziger VoUtszeitung has declared that Raemaekers' cartoons show 
unimpeachable art and great power of execution, but that they all lack one thing. 
They have nowit.no spirit. Which is true — in a sense. They do lack wit — German 
wit; they do lack spirit — German spirit. And what German wit and German spirit 
may be one can comprehend by a study of Raemaekers' cartoons. 



It has been well said that no man living amidst these surging seas of blood and 
tears has come nearer to the role of Peacemaker than Raemaekers. The Peace which 
he works for is not a matter of arrangement between diplomatists and politicians: 
it is the peace which the intelligence and the soul of the Western world shall insist on 
in the years to be. God grant it be not long delayed, but it can only come when the 
enemy is entirely overthrown and the victory is overwhelming and complete. 

Empire House. FRAXCIS STOPFORD, 

Ejngsway, London. Editor, Land and Water. 

February, 1916. 



An Appreciation from the 
Prime Minister 



M 



Downing Street, 
Whitehall, S. \V 

R. RAEMAEKERS' powerful work 
gives form and colour to the menace 
which the Allies are averting from the 
liberty, the civilization, and the humanity of the 
future. He shows us our enemies as they ap- 
pear to the unbiassed eyes of a neutral, and 
wherever his pictures are seen determination 
will be strengthened to tolerate no end of the 
war save the final overthrow of the Prussian 
military power. 

Signed H. H. ASQUITH. 



Christendom After Twenty 
Centuries 

THESE pictures, with their haunting sense of beauty and their 
biting satire, might almost have been drawn by the finger of the 
Accusing Angel. As the spectator gazes on them the full weight 
of the horrible cruelty and senseless futility of war overwhelms the 
soul, and, sinking helplessly beneath it, he feels inclined to assume the 
same attitude of despair as is shown in "Christendom After Twenty 
Centuries." 

"War is war," the Germans preached and practised, and no matter 
how clement and correct may be the humanity of the Allies, we realize 
through these pictures what the human race has to face and endure 
once peace be broken. Is " Christendom After Twenty Centuries" to be 
even as Christianity was in the first century— an excuse for the perpetra- 
tion of mad cruelties by degenerate Caesars or Kaisers (spell it as you 
will) at their games? Cannot the higher and finer attributes of man- 
kind be developed and strengthened without this apparently needless 
waste of agony and life? Is human nature only to be redeemed 
through the Cross, and must Calvary bear again and again its heavy 
load of human anguish? 

One cannot escape from this inner questioning as one gazes on 
Raemaekers' cartoons. 

FRANCIS STOPFORD. 







CHRISTENDOM AFTER TWENTY CENTURIES 



A Stable Peace 



WERE I privileged to have a hand at the Peace Conference, 
my cooperation would take the part of deeds and I should 
only ask to hang the walls of the council chamber with 
life-size reproductions of Raemaekers in blood-red frames. For 
human memory is weak, and as mind of man cannot grasp the mean- 
ing of a million, so may it well fail to keep steadily before itself the 
measure of Belgium — the rape and murder, the pillage and plunder, 
the pretences under which perished women and priests and children, 
the brutal tyranny — the left hand that beckoned in friendly fashion, 
the right hand, hidden with the steel. 

We can very safely leave France to remember Northern France 
and Russia not to forget Poland; but let Belgium and Serbia be at 
the front of the British mind and conscience; let her lift her eyes 
to these scorching pictures when Germany fights with all her cunning 
for a peace that shall leave Prussia scotched, not killed. 

Already one reads despondent articles, that the English tradition, 
to forgive and forget, is going to wreck the peace; and students of 
psychology fear that within us lie ineradicable qualities that will save 
the situation for Germany at the end. 

To suspect such a national weakness is surely to arm against it 
and see that our contribution to the Peace Conference shall not stultify 
our contribution to the War. 

The Germans have been kite-flying for six months, to see which 
way the wind blows; and when the steady hurricane broke the strings 
and flung the kites headlong to earth, those who sent them up were 
sufficiently proclaimed by their haste to disclaim. 

But when the actual conditions are created and the new "Scrap 
of Paper" comes to light, since German honour is dead and her oath 
in her own sight worthless, let it be worthless in our sight also, and 
let the terms of peace preclude her power to perjure herself again. 
Make her honest by depriving her of the strength to be dishonest. 
There is only one thing on earth the German will ever respect, and that 
is superior force. May Berlin, therefore, see an army of occupation; 
and may "peace" be a word banished from every Allied tongue until 
that preliminary condition of peace is accomplished, and Germany 
sees other armies than her own. 

Reason has been denied speech in this war; but if she is similarly 
banished from the company of the peace-makers, then woe betide 
the constitution of the thing they will create, for a "stable peace" 
must be the very last desire of those now doomed to defeat. 

EDEN PHILLPOTTS. 



10 




A STABLE PEACE 
The Kaiser: 'And remember, if they do not accept, I deny altogether." 



11 



The Massacre of the Innocents 

SOME "neutrals," and even some of the people here in England, 
still doubt the reality of the German atrocities in Belgium, 
but Raemaekers has seen and spoken with those to whom the 
scene depicted in this cartoon is an ugly reality. One who would under- 
stand it to the full must visualize the hands behind the thrusting rifle 
butts, and the faces behind the hands, as well as the praying, maddened, 
despairing, vengeful women of the picture — and must visualize, too, 
the men thrust back another way, to wait their fate at the hands of 
these apostles of a civilization of force. 

Yet even then full realization is impossible; the man whose pencil 
has limned these faces has only caught a far-off echo of the reality, 
and thus we who see his picture are yet another stage removed from 
the full horror of the scene that he gives us. Not on us, in England, 
have the rifle butts fallen; not for us has it chanced that we should 
be shepherded "men to the right, women to the left"; not ours the 
trenched graves and the extremity of shame. Thus it is not for us to 
speak, as the people of Belgium and Northern France will speak, of 
the limits of endurance, and of war's last terrors imposed on those 
whom war should have passed by and left untouched. We gather, 
dimly and with but a tithe of the feeling that experience can impart, 
that these extremities of shame and suffering have been imposed on a 
people that has done no wrong, and we may gain some slight satisfac- 
tion from the thought that to this nation is apportioned a share in the 
work of vengeance on the criminals. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



12 




THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS 
'We must do everything in good order — so men to the right, women to the left. 



13 



Bernhardiism 

IT IS the most bestial part of this most bestial thing that it is cal- 
culated and a matter of orders. The private soldier takes his 
share of the loot, and is generally the instrument of the cold and 
ordered killing; but it is the officer-class which most profits in goods, 
and it is the higher command which dictates the policy. It was so in 
1870. It is much more so to-day. 

This note of calculation is particularly to be seen in the fluctua- 
tions through which that policy has passed. When the enemy was 
absolutely certain of victory, outnumbering the invader by nearly 
two to one and sweeping all before him, we had massacres upon mas- 
sacres: Louvain, Aerschot, the wholesale butchery of Dinant, the 
Lorraine villages (and in particular the hell of Guebervilliers). Even 
at the very extremity of his tide of invasion, and in the last days of it, 
came the atrocities and destruction of Sermaize. In the very act of 
the defeat which has pinned him and began the process of his destruc- 
tion he was attempting yet a further repetition of these unnameable 
things at Senlis under the very gates of Paris. 

Then came the months when he felt less secure. The whole thing 
was at once toned down by order. Pillage was reduced to isolated 
cases, and murder also. Few children suffered. 

A recovery of confidence throughout his Eastern successes last 
summer renewed the crimes. Poland is full of them, and the Serbian 
land as well. 

In general, you have throughout these months of his ordeal a 
regular succession, of excess in vileness when he is confident, of re- 
straint in it when he is touched by fear. 

This effect of fear upon the dull soul is a characteristic familiar 
to all men who know their Prussian from history, particularly the 
wealthier governing classes of Prussia. It is a characteristic which 
those who are in authority during this war will do well to bear in 
mind. Properly used, that knowledge may be made an instrument 
of victory. 

HILAIRE BELLOG. 



14 




BERNHARDIISM 

'It's all right. If I hadn't done it some one else might." 



15 



From Liege to Aix-La-Chapelle 

MOREOVER, by the means of Wisdom I shall obtain im- 
mortality, and leave behind me an everlasting memorial to 
them that come after me. 

"I shall set the people in order, and the nations shall be subject 
unto me. 

"Horrible tyrants shall be afraid, when they do but hear of me; 
I shall be found good among the multitude, and valiant in war." 
(Wisdom viii. 13, 14, 15.) 



Wisdom and Wisdom alone could have painted this terrible pic- 
ture — the most terrible perhaps which Raemaekers has ever done and 
yet the simplest. That he should have dared to leave almost every- 
thing to the imagination of the beholder is evidence of the wonderful 
power which he exercises over the mind of the people. Each of us 
knows what is in that goods-van and we shudder at its hideous hidden 
freight, fearing lest it may be disclosed before our eyes. Wisdom is 
but another name for supreme genius. So apposite are the verses which 
are quoted here from "The Wisdom of Solomon" in the "Apocrypha" 
that they seem almost to have been written on Louis Raemaekers. 

Moreover, this picture brings home to all of us in the most forcible 
manner possible the full reality of the horror of war. 

FRANCIS STOPFORD. 



16 




FROM LIEGE TO A1X-LA-CHAPELLE 



17 



Spoils for the Victors 

THE feature that will stamp Prussian War forever, and make 
this group of campaigns stand out from all others, is the 
character of its murder and pillage. 

Of all the historical ignorance upon which the foolish Pacifist's 
case is founded, perhaps the worst is the conception that these abomi- 
nations are the natural accompaniment of war. They have attached 
to war when war was ill organised in type. But the more subject 
to rule it has become, the more men have gloried in arms, the more 
they have believed the high trade of soldier to be a pride, the more 
have they eliminated the pillage of the civilian and the slaughter 
of the innocent from its actions. Those things belong to violent pas- 
sion and to lack of reason. Modern war and the chivalric tradition 
scorned them. 

The edges of the Germanies have, in the past, been touched by the 
chivalric tradition: Prussia never. That noblest inheritance of Christ- 
endom never reached out so far into the wilds. And to Germany, now 
wholly Prussianized — which will kill us or which we shall kill — soldier is 
no high thing, nor is their any meaning attached to the word "Glorious." 
War is for that State a business : a business only to be undertaken with 
profit against what is certainly weaker; to be undertaken without faith 
and with a cruelty in proportion to that weakness. In particular it must 
be a terror to women, to children, and to the aged — for these remain un- 
armed. 

This country alone of the original alliance has been spared pillage. 
It has not been spared murder. But this country, though the process 
has perhaps been more gradual than elsewhere, is very vividly alive 
to-day to what would necessarily follow the presence of German 
soldiery upon English land. 

HILAIRE BELLOC. 



18 



%^~ 
















m 



.^. 



~Z' 



■ 







SPOILS FOR THE VICTORS 
"We must despoil Belgium if only to make room for our own culture. 



19 



The Very Stones Cry Out 

IF THE highly organized enemy with whom we are at grips in a 
life-and-death struggle would only play the war game in ac- 
cordance with the rules drawn up by civilized peoples, he would, 
indeed, command our admiration no less than our respect. Never 
on this earth was there such a splendid fighting machine as that "made 
in Germany." The armies against us are the last word in discipline, 
fitness, and equipment; and are led by men who, born in barracks, 
weaned on munitions, have but one aim and end in view — "World- 
Dominion or Downfall." 

As a matter of fact, instead of winning our admiration they have 
drawn our detestation. Not content with brushing aside all inter- 
national laws of warfare, they have trampled upon every law, human 
and divine, standing in their way of conquest. Indeed, Germany's 
method of fighting would disgrace the savages of Central Africa. 

Prussianized Germany has the monopoly of "frightfulness." When 
not "frightful," Prussian troopers are not living down to the instruc- 
tions of their War-lords to leave the conquered with nothing but eyes 
to weep with. Not content to crucify Canadians, murder priests, vio- 
late nuns, mishandle women, and bayonet children, the enemy tor- 
pedoes civilian-carrying liners, and bombs Red Cross hospitals. More, 
sinning against posterity as well as antiquity, Germans stand charged 
before man and God with reducing to ashes some of the finest artistic 
output of Christian civilization. When accused of crimes such as 
these, Germany answers through her generals: "The commonest, 
ugliest stone put to mark the burial-place of a German grenadier is a 
more glorious and venerable monument than all the cathedrals of 
Europe put together" (General von Disfurth in Hamburger Nachrich- 
ten). "Thus is fulfilled the well-known prophecy of Heine: 'When 
once that restraining talisman, the Cross, is broken . . . Thor, 
with his colossal hammer, will leap up, and with it shatter into frag- 
ments the Gothic cathedrals' " (Religion and Philosophy in Germany 
in the Nineteenth Century). 

What, I ask, can you do with such people but either crush or 
civilize them? 

The very stones cry out against them. 

BERNARD VAUGHAN, S.J. 



20 




•J .OLMSL H^cjemn*- U 



THE VERY STONES CRY OUT 



21 



Satan's Partner 



THE cartoon bears the quotation from Bernhardi "War is as 
divine as eating and drinking." Yes; and German war is as 
divine as German eating and drinking. Any one who has been 
in a German restaurant during that mammoth midday meal which 
generally precedes a sleep akin to a hibernation, will understand how 
the same strange barbarous solemnity has ruined all the real romance 
of war. There is no way of conveying the distinction, except by saying 
vaguely that there is a way of doing things, and that butchering is not 
necessary to a good army any more than gobbling is necessary to a 
good dinner. In our own insular shorthand it can be, insufficiently 
and narrowly but not unprofitably, expressed by saying that it is 
possible both to fight and to eat like a gentleman. It is therefore highly 
significant that Mr. Raemaekers has in this cartoon conceived the devil 
primarily as a kind of ogre. It is a matter of great interest that this 
Dutch man of genius, like that other genius whose pencil war has 
turned into a sword, Will Dyson, tends in the presence of Prussia 
(which has been for many moderns their first glimpse of absolute or 
positive evil) to depriving the devil of all that moonshine of dignity 
which sentimental sceptics have given him. Evil does not mean 
dignity, any more than it means any other good thing. The stronger 
caricaturists have, in a sense, fallen back on the medieval devil; not 
because he is more mystical, but because he is more material. The face 
of Raemaekers' Satan, with its lifted jowl and bared teeth, has less 
of the half-truth of cynicism than of mere ignominious greed. The 
armies are spread out for him as a banquet; and the war which he 
praises, and which was really spread for him in Flanders, is not a 
Crusade but a cannibal feast. 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



22 




SATAN'S PARTNER 

Bernhardt "War is as divine as eating and drinking 
Satan: "Here is a partner for me." 



23 



Thrown to the Swine 

THE Germans have committed many more indefensible crimes 
than the military execution of the kind-hearted nurse who had 
helped war-prisoners to escape. They have murdered hun- 
dreds of women who had committed no offence whatever against their 
military rules. But though not the worst of their misdeeds, this 
has probably been the stupidest. It gained us almost as many recruits 
as the sinking of the Lusitania, and it made the whole world understand 
— what is unhappily the truth — that the German is wholly destitute 
of chivalry. He knows indeed that people of other nations are af- 
fected by this sentiment; but he despises them for it. Woman is the 
weaker vessel ; and therefore, according to his code, she must be taught 
to know her place, which is to cook and sew, and produce "cannon- 
fodder" for the Government. Readers of Schopenhauer and Nietzsche 
will remember the advice given by those philosophers for the treatment 
of women. Nietzsche recommends a whip. It never occurred to 
German officialdom that the pedantic condemnation of one obscure 
woman, guilty by the letter of their law, would stir the heart of Eng- 
land and America to the depths, and steel our soldiers to further efforts 
against an enemy whose moral unlikeness to ourselves becomes more 
apparent with every new phase in the struggle. 

THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S. 



24 




THROWN TO THE SWINE 
The Martyred Nurse. 



25 



The Land Mine 



WHAT does this cartoon suggest? I am asked and I ask my- 
self. At first very little, almost nothing, only uninteresting, 
ugly death, gloomy, ghastly, dismal, but dull and largely 
featureless, blank and negative. Has the artist's power failed him? 
No, it is strongly drawn. Has his inspiration? What does it mean? 
Is it indeed meant? As I gaze and pore on it longer, I seem to see that 
it is just in this blank negation that its strength and its suggestion lie. 
It is meant. It has meaning. A blast has passed over this place, 
and this is its sequel, its derelict rubbish. 

It is death unredeemed, death with no very positive suggestion, 
with no hint of heroism, none of heroic action, little even of heroic 
passion; just death, helpless, hopeless, pointing to nothing but decom- 
position, decay, disappearance, aneantissement, reduction of the fair 
frame of life to nothingness. That is the peculiar horror of this war. 
Were the picture, as it well might be, even more hideous, and did it 
suggest something more definite, a story of struggle, say, recorded in 
contortion, or by wounds and weapons, it might be better. 

But men killed by machines, men killed by natural forces un- 
naturally employed, are indeed a fact and a spectacle squalid, sorry, 
unutterably sad. 

All wars have been horrible, but modern wars are more in ex- 
tremes. Heroism is there, but not always. It is possible only in 
patches. There is much of the mere sacrifice of numbers. Strictly, 
there are scenes far worse than this, for death unredeemed is not the 
worst of sufferings or of ills. But few are sadder. This is indeed war 
made by those who hold it and will it to be "not a sport, but a science." 
There is no sport here. Men killed like this are like men killed by 
plague or the eruption of a volcano. And, indeed, what else are they? 
They are victims of a diseased humanity of the eruption — literal and 
metaphorical — of its hidden fires. And wars will grow more and more 
like this. What can stop them and banish these scenes? Only the 
hate of hate, only the love that can redeem even such a sight as this 
when at last we remember that it is for love's sake only that flesh and 
blood are in the last retort content to endure it. 

HERBERT WARREN. 



26 




THE LAND MINE 



27 



''For Your Motherland 



?? 



England's your Mother! Let your life 
acclaim 
Her precious heart's blood flowing in 
your heart; 
Take ye the thunder of her solemn name 
Upon your lips with reverence; play your 
part 

By word and deed 
To shield and speed 
The far-flung splendour of her ancient 
fame. 

England's your Mother! Shall not you, 
her child, 
Quicken the everlasting fires that glow 
Upon your birthright's altar? England 
smiled 
Beside your cradle, trusting you to show, 
With manhood's might, 
The undying light 
That points the road her free-born spirits 



England's your Mother! Man, forget it 

not 
Wherever on the wide-wayed earth 

your fate 
Calls you to labour; whatsoe'er your lot — 



In service, or in power, in stress or 
state — 

Whate'er betide, 
With humble pride, 
Remember! By your Mother you are great. 

England's your Mother! What though 
dark the day 
Above the storm-swept frontier that 
you tread? 
Her vanished children throng the glorious 
way; 
A myriad legions of her living dead — ■ 
Those starry trains 
That shared your pains — 
Shall set their crown of light upon your 
head. 

England's your Mother! When the race is 
run 
And you are called to leave your life 
and die, 
Small matter what is lost, so this be won: 
An after-glow of blessed memory, 
Gracious and pure, 
In witness sure 
" England was this man's Mother: he, 
her son." 

EDEN PHILLPOTTS. 



28 




'MY SON, GO AND FIGHT FOR YOUR MOTHERLAND!' 



29 



The German Loan 

THE bubble is very nicely balanced, for German "kultur," 
which is in reality but another word for "system" or "organ- 
ization," rather than that which English-speaking people under- 
stand by "culture," has built up a system of internal credit that shall 
ensure the correct balance of the bubble— for just as long as the mili- 
tarist policy of Germany can endure the strain of war. But money 
alone is not sufficient for victory; the peasant hard put to it to suppress 
his laugh, and the crowned Germania that built up the paper pedestal 
of the bubble, needed many other things to make that pedestal secure; 
there was needed integrity, and the respect of neighbouring nations, 
and the understanding of other points of view beside the doctrine of 
force, and liberty instead of coercion of a whole nation, and many 
other things that the older civilizations of Europe have accepted as 
parts of their code of life — the things this new, upstart Germany has 
not had time to learn. Thus, with the paper credit — and even with 
the gold reserve of which Germany has boasted, the pedestal is but 
paper. And the winds that blow from the flooded, corpse-strewn 
districts of the Yser, from Artois, from Champagne and the Vosges 
hills and forests, and from the long, long line of Russia's grim defences 
— these winds shall blow it away, leaving a nation bankrupt not only 
in money, but in the power to coerce, in the power to inspire fear, and 
in all those things out of which the Hohenzollern dynasty has built up 
the last empire of force. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



30 




I— J — >00|S. |~\or,v:Qe(s^= 



THE GERMAN LOAN 
"Don't breathe on the bubble or the whole will collapse.' 



31 



Europe, 1916 



THERE are some English critics who have not yet considered 
so simple a thing as that the case against horrors must be hor- 
rible. In this respect alone this publication of the work of 
the distinguished foreign cartoonist is a thing for our attention and 
enlightenment. It is the whole point of the awful experience which 
has to-day swallowed up all our smaller experiences, that we are in any 
case confronted with the abominable; and the most beautiful thing we 
can hope to show is only an abomination of it. Nevertheless, there is 
horror and horror. The distinction between brute exaggeration and 
artistic emphasis could hardly be better studied than in Mr. Rae- 
maekers' cartoon, and the use he makes of the very ancient symbol of 
the wheel. Europe is represented as dragged and broken upon the 
wheel as in the old torture; but the wheel is that of a modern cannon, 
so that the dim background can be filled in with the suggestion of a 
wholly modern machinery. This is a very true satire; for there are 
many scientific persons who seem to be quite reconciled to the crushing 
of humanity by a vague mechanical environment in which there are 
wheels within wheels. But the inner restraint of the artist is sug- 
gested in the treatment of the torment itself; which is suggested by a 
certain rending drag in the garments, while the limbs are limp and the 
head almost somnolent. She does not strive nor cry; neither is her 
voice heard in the streets. The artist had not to draw pain but to 
draw despair; and while the pain is old enough the particular despair 
is modern. The victim racked for a creed could at least cry "I am 
converted." But here even the terms of surrender are unknowable; 
and she can only ask "Am I civilized?" 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



32 




irsFvcitffna^*;^ 



EUROPE, 1916 
'Am I not yet sufficiently civilized ? " 



33 



The Next to Be Kicked Out — 
Dumbas Master 

UNCLE SAM is no longer the simple New England farmer of a 
century ago. He is rich beyond calculation. His family is 
more numerous than that of any European country save 
Russia. His interests are world-wide, his trade tremendous, his 
industry complex, his finance fabulous. Above all, his family is no 
longer of one race. The hatreds of Europe are not echoed in his 
house; they are shared and reverberate through his corridors. It is 
difficult, then, for him to take the simple views of right and wrong, 
of justice and humanity, that he took a century ago. He is tempted 
to balance a hundred sophistries against the principles of freedom and 
good faith that yet burn strongly within him. He is driven to tem- 
porize with the evil thing he hates, because he fears, if he does not, 
that his household will be split, and thus the greater evil befall him. 
But those that personify the evil may goad him once too often. Dumba 
the lesser criminal — as also the less dexterous — has betrayed himself 
and is expelled. When will Bernstorff's turn come? That it will 
come, indeed must come, is self-evident. The artist sees things too 
clearly as they are not to see also what they will be. He therefore 
skips the ignoble interlude of prevarication, quibble, and intrigue, and 
gives us Uncle Sam happy at last in his recovered simplicity. So we 
see him here, enjoying himself, as only a white man can, in a whole- 
hearted spurning of lies, cruelty, and murder. 

Note that Bernstorff — the victim of a gesture "fortunately rare 
amongst gentlemen" — is already in full flight through the air, while 
Uncle Sam's left foot has still fifteen inches to travel. The promise 
of an added velocity indicates that the flight of the unmasked diplo- 
matist will be far. The sketched vista of descending steps gives us the 
satisfaction of knowing that the drop at the end will be deep. Every 
muscle of our sinewy relative is tense, limp, and projectile — the mouth- 
piece of Prussia goes to his inevitable end. There is no need of a sequel 
to show him shattered and crumpled at the bottom of the stairway. 

ARTHUR POLLEN. 



34 




i. ! !»■!■» IHvW 



X 



THE NEXT TO BE KICKED OUT— DUMBA'S MASTER 



35 



The Friendly Visitor 

RAEMAEKERS is never false, and he never works for effect 
alone. That is what makes him so terrible to the people he 
criticises, and so effective. 
When he wants to depict the sturdy Dutch soul he draws a sturdy 
Dutch Body — ready to defend her home. No flags, no highfalutin, no 
symbolical figure posed for show; just cleanliness, determination, and 
good sense facing bestiality and oppression. 

The figure that stands for the Freedom of the Home opposed to 
the figure that stands for the Freedom of the Seas. 

Many an Englishman might take this picture to heart. 

H. DE VERE STACPOOLE. 



36 




THE FRIENDLY VISITOR 
The German : " I come as a friend." 
Holland : "Oh, yes. I've heard that from my Belgian sister. 

37 



' To Your Health, Civilization ! ? 

THIS terrible cartoon points its own lesson so forcibly that its 
effect is more likely to be weakened than strengthened by 
any verbal comment. Death quaffs a goblet of human blood 
to the health of Civilization. Death has never enjoyed such a carnival 
of slaughter before, and it is Civilization that has made the holocaust 
possible. The comparatively simple methods of killing employed by 
barbarians could not have destroyed so many lives; nor could bar- 
barian states have raised such huge armies. The artist makes us 
feel that such a war as this is an act of moral madness, a disgrace to 
our common humanity. It is true that some of the nations engaged are 
guiltless, and others almost guiltless; but there is a solidarity of Euro- 
pean civilization which obliges us all to share the shame and sorrow 
of this monstrous crime. Universal war is the reductio ad absurdum 
of false political theories and false moral ideals; and the reductio ad 
absurdum is the chief argument which Providence uses with mankind. 
Perhaps it is the only argument which mankind in the mass can under- 
stand. 

THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S. 



38 




"TO YOUR HEALTH, CIVILIZATION!" 



39 



Fox Tirpitz Preaching to the Geese 

THERE is nothing more pathetic in some ways to-day than the 
position of the small neutral countries in Europe, and especially 
those which directly adjoin Germany. And there is nothing 
more galling than the inability of the Allies to give them any help. 
For the hour they are absolutely at the mercy of Germany, or would be, 
if she had any, and they know it. They are certainly liable and exposed 
to all her flouts and cuffs and to any displays of bad temper or bullying 
or terrorism it may please her to exercise. And none perhaps is worse 
off in this respect than Holland. It suits Germany to be fairly civil to 
Switzerland, who could give her a good deal of trouble by joining France 
and Italy; and no doubt it suits her too to some extent to consider 
Denmark, for Denmark commands the entrance to the Baltic; and, 
further, Germany does not wish to bring all Scandinavia down upon 
herself just at present. That can wait; but Holland is in the worst 
plight of all. She has the terrible spectacle of Belgium, ruined and 
ravaged, just on the other side of the way. And she has a very con- 
siderable and valuable mercantile marine. 

The great and good Germany cannot be troubled to distinguish 
between Dutch and other boats, and if occasionally a Dutch ship is 
captured or sent to the bottom, it is a useful reminder of what she 
might do to her "poor relation" if she really let herself go. Fighting 
for the freedom of the seas! Holland has fought for them herself. 
Holland has a great naval tradition. She knows quite well what Eng- 
land has been and is. She knows too, and can see, how her sons and 
brothers in South Africa were treated by the British in England's 
last war, and how they regard England and Germany now. 

Raemaekers' cartoon is very skilful. If we had not seen it done, 
we should not have believed it possible to produce at once so clever a 
likeness of Von Tirpitz and so excellent an old fox. But the goose is 
by no means a foolish bird, though its wisdom may sometimes be 
shown in knowing its own weakness. It was they, and not the watch- 
dogs, that saved the Capitol. In old days it was the custom to call the 
Germans the "High Dutch" and the inhabitants of Holland the "Low 
Dutch." It was a geographical distinction. The contrast in moral 
elevation is the other way. 

HERBERT WARREN. 



40 



. 




FOX T1RPITZ PREACHING TO THE GEESE 

You see, my little Dutch geese, I am fighting for the freedom of the seas. 
(The Germans illegally captured several Dutch ships.) 



41 



The Prisoners 



A VILE feature of German "f rightfulness" is this: that she 
mixes poison with her prisoners' rations. Not content with 
starving their bodies, she hides truth from them and floods 
their minds with lies. Those in command — officers, educated men, 
claiming the service of their soldiers and civil guard and the respect 
of their nation — deliberately hash a daily meal of falsehood and serve 
up German victories and triumphs on land and sea as sauce to the 
starvation diet of their defenceless captives. 

In the earlier months of the war, while yet the spiritual slough into 
which Germany had sunk was unguessed, and the mixture of child and 
devil exemplified by " f rightfulness " continued unfathomed, these 
daily lies undoubtedly answered their cowardly purpose, cast down 
the spirit of thousands, and added another pang to their captivity. 
But our armies know better now, and those diminishing numbers 
likely to be taken prisoner in the future see the end more clearly than 
the foe can. Lies will be met with laughter henceforth, for our enemies 
have put themselves beyond the pale. They may starve and insult 
our bodies; but their power to poison our brains has passed from 
them forever. We know them at last. They have spun a web of 
barbed villainy between their souls and ours; and the evil committed 
for one foul purpose alone — to terrify free men and break the spirit of 
the sons of liberty — has produced results far different and created a 
situation more terrible for them than for their outraged enemies. 

For in this matter of misrepresentation and lying, born of Prussia 
and by her spoon-fed pack of martinets, professors, and Churchmen, 
mingled with Germany's daily bread for a generation, it is she and not 
we who will reap the whirlwind of that sowing; it is she and not we who 
must soon pant and tear the breast in the pangs of the poison. 

Between the mad and the sane there can be only one victor; and 
when the time comes, may Germany's robe of repentance be a strait- 
waistcoat of the Allies' choosing. For she has drunk deep of the poison, 
and those who anticipate a speedy cure will be as mad as she. When 
the escaped tigress is back in her cage, men look to the bars, for none 
wants a second mauling. 

EDEN PHILLPOTTS. 



42 




THE PRISONERS 



43 



Ifs Unbelievable 



I AM not sure that in this cartoon of Raemaekers the most pleasing 
detail is not the servant's right eye. Yon will observe in that 
servant's right eye an expression familiar in those who over- 
hear this sort of comment upon the peculiar bestialities of the Prus- 
sian in Belgium and Poland, this extenuation of his baseness. When 
the war was young the opportunity for giving that glance was com- 
moner than it is now. There were many even in a belligerent country 
who would tell you in superior fashion how foolishly exaggerated were 
the so-called "atrocities." The greater number of such men (and 
women) talked of "two Germanies" — one the nice Germany they knew 
and loved so well, and the other apparently nasty Germany which 
raped, burned, stole, broke faith, tortured, and the rest. Their 
number has diminished. But there is a little lingering trace of the sort 
of thing still to be discovered : men and women who hope against hope 
that the Prussian will really prove good at heart after all. And it is 
usually just after some expression of the kind that the most appalling 
news arrives with a terrible irony to punctuate their folly. It reminds 
one a little of the man in the story who was sure that he could tame a 
wild cat, and was in the act of recording its virtues when it flew in his 
face. To an impartial observer who cared nothing for our sufferings 
or the enemy's vices, there would be something enormously comic in 
the vision of these few remaining (for there are still some few remaining) 
that approach the wild beast with soothing words and receive as their 
only reward a very large bomb through the roof of their house, or the 
news that some one dear to them has been murdered on the high seas. 
But to those actively suffering in the struggle the comic element is 
difficult to seize, and it is replaced by indignation. This fantastic 
misconception of the thing that is being fought is bound to be burned 
right out by the realities of the enemy acts in belligerent countries. It 
will be similarly destroyed — and that in no very great space of time — 
in all neutral countries as well. Prussia will have it so. She is allowing 
no moral defence to remain for her future. It is almost as though the 
men now directing her affairs lent ear carefully to every word spoken in 
praise of them abroad, and met it at once by the tremendous denial 
of example. It is almost as though the Prussian felt it a sort of per- 
sonal insult to receive the praise of dupes and fools, and perhaps it is. 

HILAIRE BELLOC. 



44 




IT'S UNBELIEVABLE 

Dutch Officer : " How can they have soiled their hands by such atrocities?" 
She : " Can they have done it, my dear? German officers are so nice." 



45 



Kreuzland, Kreuzland JJber Alles 

THIS war has produced examples of every kind of misery which 
human beings can inflict upon each other, except one. Europe 
has mercifully been spared long sieges of populous towns, 
ending in the surrender of the starving population. But many towns 
and villages have been burnt; and masses of refugees have fled before 
the invader, knowing too well the brutal treatment which they had to 
expect if they remained. Very many of the unhappy Belgians have 
taken refuge in Holland; a considerable number have found an asylum 
in this country. They are homeless and ruined ; if the war were to end 
to-morrow, many of them would not know where to go or how to live. 
Families have been broken up; husbands and wives, parents and chil- 
dren, are ignorant of each other's fate. In this picture we see a crowd 
of children, herded together like a flock of sheep, with nobody to take 
care of them. Their via dolorosa is marked by long rows of crosses on 
either side, emblems of suffering, death, and sacrifice. In the distance 
rise the smoke and flames from one of the innumerable incendiary fires 
which the Germans, like the cruel banditti of the Middle Ages, have 
kindled wherever they go. 

THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S. 



46 




KREUZLAND, KREUZLAND UBER ALLES 
Belgium, 19 14: " Where are our fathers ? " 



47 



The Ex-convict 



PRUSSIA in every war has betrayed that peculiar mark of bar- 
barism consisting in using the intellectual weapons of a superior, 
but not knowing how to use them. It is still a matter of mys- 
tery to the directing Prussian mind why the sinking of the Lusitania 
should have shocked the world. A submarine cannot take a prize 
into port. The Lusitania happened to be importing goods available 
in war, therefore the Lusitania must be sunk. All the penumbrse of 
further consideration which the civilized man weighs escape this sort 
of logic. Similarly, the Prussian argues, if an armed man is prepared 
to surrender, convention decrees that his life should be spared. There- 
fore, if an armed man be just fresh from the murder of a number of 
children, he has but to cry "Kamerad" to be perfectly safe. And 
Prussia foams at the mouth with indignation whenever this strict rule 
of conduct is forgotten in the heat of the moment. The use of poison 
in the field which Prussia for the first time employed (and reluctantly 
compelled her civilized opponents to reply to) is in the same boat. 
A shell bursts because solid explosive becomes gaseous. To use shell 
which in bursting wounds and kills men is to use gas in war; therefore 
if one uses gas in the other form of poison, disabling one's opponent 
with agony, it is all one. Precisely the same barbaric use of logic — 
which reminds one of the antics of an animal imitating human gestures 
— will later apply to the poisoning of water supplies, or the spreading of 
an epidemic. It is soldierly and excites no contempt or indignation to 
strike at your enemy with a sword or shoot a pellet of lead at him in 
such a fashion that he dies. What is all this foolish pother about killing 
him with bacilli in his cisterns or with a drop of poison in his tea? 
Men in war have burned groups of houses with the torch in anger or for 
revenge. Why distinguish between that and the methodical sprinkling 
of petroleum from a hose by one gang and the equally methodical 
burning of the whole town house by house with little capsules of pre- 
pared incendiary stuff? The rule always applies — but only against 
the opponent : never to one's self. From that attitude of mind the Prus- 
sian will never emerge. We shall, please God, see that mood in all its 
beauty in later stages of the war, when the coercion of the Prussian 
upon his own soil leads to acts indefensible by Prussian logic. We 
have already had a taste of this sort of reasoning when the royalties 
fled from Karlsruhe and when the murderers upon the sinking Zeppelin 
received the reward due to men who boast that they will not keep faith. 

HILAIRE BELLOC. 



48 




THE EX-CONVICT 
" 1 was a ' lifer,' but they found I had many abilities for bringing civilization 
amongst our neighbours, so now 1 am a soldier." 



49 



Miss Cavell 

MOST of the English caricaturists are much too complimentary 
to the German Emperor. They draw his moustaches, but 
not his face. Now his moustaches are exactly what he, 
or the whole Prussian school he represents, particularly wishes us to 
look at. They give him the fierce air of a fighting cock; and however 
little we may like fierceness, there will always be a certain residual 
respect for fighting, even in a cock. Now the Junker moustache is 
a fake; almost as much so as if it were stuck on with gum. It is, as 
Mr. Belloc has remarked, curled in a machine all night lest it should 
hang down. Raemaekers, in the sketch which shows the Kaiser as 
waiting for Nurse Cavell's death to say, "Now you can bring me the 
American protest," has gone behind the moustache to the face, and 
behind the face to the type and the spirit. The Emperor is not com- 
manding in a lordly voice from a throne, but with a leer and behind a 
curtain. In the few lines of the lean, unnatural face is written the real 
history of the Hohenzollerns, the kind of history not often touched on 
in our comfortable English humour, but common to the realism of 
Continental art: the madness of Frederick William, the perversion of 
Frederick the Great, the hint, mingled with subtler talents, of the mere 
idiocy that seems to have flowered again in the last heir of that in- 
human house. The Hohenzollerns have varied from generation to 
generation in many things and like many families; some of them have 
been tyrants, some of them geniuses, some of them merely boobies; but 
they have shared in something more than that hereditary policy which 
has been the poison in Christendom for tw r o hundred years. There 
is a ghost who inhabits these perishing tenements, and in such a picture 
as this of Raemaekers men can see it looking out of the eyes. And it 
is neither the spirit of a tyrant nor of a booby; but the spirit of a sly 
invalid. 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



50 








MISS CAVELL 
William : " Now you can bring me the American protest." 



51 



The Hostages 



AY, boy — you may well ask. 

/\ And the world asks also, and in due time will exact an answer — to 

yY the last drop of innocent blood. 
What have you done? 

You have fallen into the hands of the most scientifically organized barbarism 
the world has ever seen, or, please God, ever will see — to whom, of deliberate 
choice, such words as truth, honour, mercy, justice, have become dead letters, by 
reason of the pernicious doctrines on which the race has been nourished — by 
which its very soul has been poisoned. 

Dead letters? — worn-out rags, the very virtues they once represented, even 
in Germany, long since flung to the dust-heaps of the past in the soulless scramble 
for power and a place in the sun which no one denied her. 

Deliberately, and of malice prepense, the military caste of Prussia has taught, 
and the unhappy common-folk have accepted, that as a nation they are past all 
that kind of thing. There is only one right in the world — the might of the strongest. 
The weak to the wall ! Make way for the Hun, whose god is power, and his high- 
priests the Kaiser and the Krupps. 

And so, every nation, even the smallest, on whom the eye of the Minotaur 
has settled in baleful desire, has said, "Better to die fighting than fall into the 
hands of the devil!" And they have fought — valiantly, and saved their souls 
alive, though their bodies may have been crushed out of existence by overwhelming 
odds. As nations, however, they shall rise again, and with honour, when their 
treacherous torturers have been crushed in their turn. 

And, wherever the evil tide has welled over a land, indemnities, incredible 
and unreasonable, have been exacted, and hostages for their payment, and for good 
behaviour under the yoke meanwhile, have been taken. 

Woe unto such! In many cases they have simply been shot in cold blood — 
murdered as brazenly as by any Jack-the-Ripper. Murder, too, of the most 
despicable — murder for gain — the gain that should accrue through the brutal 
terrorism of the act and its effect on the rest. 

And, if deemed advisable to gloss the crime with some thin veneer of imitation 
justice for the — unsuccessful — hoodwinking of a shocked and astounded world, what 
easier than an unseen shot in some obscure corner from a German rifle? Then — 
"Death to the hostages! — destruction to the village! — a fine of £100,000 on the town!" 

Those provocative shots from German rifles have surely been the most profit- 
ably engineered basenesses in the whole war. They have justified — but in German 
eyes only — every committable crime, and they cost nothing — except the souls of 
their perpetrators. 

"It's your money we want — and your land — and your property — and, if 

necessary, your lives! You are weak — we are strong — and so !" That is the 

simple Credo of the Hun. 

But for all these things there shall come a day of reckoning and the account 
will be a heavy one. 

May it be exacted to the full — from the rightful debtors! 

"What have you done?" You have at all events put the rope round the 
necks of your murderers, and the whole world's hands are at the other end of it. 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



52 




1 



isyls^Sini Q<kl& r c 



THE HOSTAGES 
Father, what have we done ? " 



53 



King Albert's Answer to the Pope 

THE war has been singularly barren of heroic figures, perhaps 
because the magnitude of the events has called forth such 
a multitude of individually heroic acts that no one can be 
placed before the rest; yet, when this greatest phase of history comes 
to be written down with historic perspective, one figure — that of King 
Albert of Belgium — will stand as that of a twentieth-century Bayard, 
a great knight without fear and without reproach. 

Action on such far-flung lines as those of the European conflict 
has called for no great leaders in the sense in which that phrase has 
applied to previous wars; no Napoleon has arisen, though William 
Hohenzollern has aspired to Napoleonic dignity; war has become more 
mechanical, more a matter of mathematics — and the barbarians of 
Germany have made it more horrible. But, as if to accentuate German 
brutality and crime, this figure of King Albert stands emblematic 
of the virtues in which civilization is rooted; to the broken word of 
Germany it opposes untarnished honour; to the treacherous spirit 
of Germany it opposes inviolable truth; to the relentless selfishness of 
Germany it opposes the vicarious sacrifice of self, of a whole country 
and nation for the sake of a principle. And, in later days, men will 
remember how this truly great king held steadfastly to the little portion 
of his kingdom that the invasion left him; how he remained to inspirit 
his men by noble example, stubbornly rejecting peace without honour, 
and holding, when all else was wrecked, to the remnants of that army 
which saved Europe in the gateway of Liege. Amid violation, dese- 
cration, and destruction, Albert of Belgium has won imperishable 

fame. 

E. CHABLES VIVIAN. 



54 




KING ALBERT'S ANSWER TO THE POPE 

" With him who broke his word, devastated my country, burned my villages, destroyed my towns, 
desecrated my churches, and murdered my people, 1 will not make peace before he is expelled from my 
country and punished for his crimes." 

55 



The Gas Fiend 



THERE is an order of minds that intuitively distrusts Science, detracts from 
the force of her achievements, and contends that devotion to machinery 
ends by making men machines. Many who argue thus have fastened on 
Germany's new war inventions as proof that Science makes for materialism and 
opposes the higher values of humanity and culture. 

This is special pleading, for against the destructive forces discovered and 
liberated by German chemists in this war, one has only to consider the vast amelio- 
ration of human life for which modern science has to be thanked. Because art 
has been created to evil purpose, shall we condemn pictures or statues? Because 
the Germans have employed gas poisons in warfare, are we to condemn the incal- 
culable gifts of organic chemistry? 

Look at the eye of Louis Raemaekers' snake. That is the answer. It is the 
force behind this application of it that has brought German Science to shame. A 
precious branch of human knowledge has been prostituted by lust of blood and greed 
of gain until Science, in common with all learning, comes simply to be regarded by 
the masters of Germany as one more weapon in the armoury, one more power to help 
win "The Day." Every culture is treated in their alembic for the same purpose. 

We may picture the series of experiments that went to perfection of their poison 
gas; we may see their Higher Command watching the death of guinea-pig, rabbit, 
and ape with increasing excitement and enthusiasm as the hideous effects of their 
discovery became apparent. Be sure an iron cross quickly hung over the iron heart 
that conceived and developed this filthy arm; for does it not offer the essence — 
quintessence of all " f rightfulness? " Does it not challenge every human nerve- 
centre by its horror? Does it not, once proclaimed, by anticipation awake those 
very emotions of dread and dismay that make the stroke more fatal when it falls? 

These people pictured their snake paralyzing the enemy into frozen impotence; 
the floundering Prussian psychology that cuts blocks with a razor and regards 
German mind as the measure of all mind, anticipated that poison gas would appeal 
to British and French as it has appealed to them. But it was not so. Their foresight 
gave them an initial success in the field; it slew a handful of men with additions 
of unspeakable agony — and rekindled the execration and contempt of Civilization. 

As an arm, poison gas cannot be considered conspicuously successful, since it 
is easily encountered; but for the Allies it had some value, since it weighted ap- 
preciably the scale against Germany in neutral minds and added to the universal 
loathing astir at the heart of the world. Only fear now holds any kingdom neutral: 
there is not an impartial nation left on earth. 

EDEN PHILLPOTTS. 



56 







THE GAS FIEND 



57 



The German Tango 

A BLOND woman, wearing the Imperial crown and with her 
hair braided in pigtails like a German backfisch, is whirling 
in the tango with a skeleton partner. Her face is livid with 
terror and fatigue, her limbs are drooping, but she is held by inexorable 
bony claws. On the feet of the skeleton are dancing pumps, a touch 
which adds to the grimness. This ghoulish dance does not lack its 
element of ghastly ceremonial. 

The Dance of Death has long been the theme of the moralist in 
art, from Orcagna's fresco on the walls of the Campo Santo at Pisa 
to Holbein's great woodcuts and our own Rowlandson. In Germany 
especially have these macabre imaginings flourished. The phantasma- 
goria of decay has haunted German art, as it haunted Poe, from Diirer 
to Boecklin. But the mediaeval Dance of Death was stately allegory, 
showing the pageant of life brooded over by the shadow of mortality. 
In M. Raemaekers' cartoon there is no dignity, no lofty resignation. 
He shows Death summoned in a mad caprice and kept as companion 
till the revel becomes a whirling horror. 

It is the profoundest symbol of the war. In a hot fit of racial 
pride Death has been welcomed as an ally. And the dance on which 
Germany enters is no stately minuet with something of tragic dignity 
in it. It is a common modern vulgar shuffle, a thing of ugly gestures 
and violent motions, the true sport of degenerates. Once begun there 
is no halting. From East to West and from West to East the dancers 
move. There is no rest, for Death is a pitiless comrade. From such a 
partner, lightly and arrogantly summoned, there can be no parting. 
The traveller seeks a goal, but the dancers move blindly and aimlessly 
among the points of the compass. Death, when called to the dance, 
claims eternal possession. 

JOHN BUCHAN. 



58 




=irs.«>£. 






THE GERMAN TANGO 
" From East to West and West to East I dance with thee! ! 



59 



The Zeppelin Triumph 

WHEN the future historian gives to another age his account of all that 
is included in German "frightfulness," there is no feature upon which 
he will dilate more emphatically than the extraordinary use made by 
the enemy of their Zeppelin fleet. In the experience we have gained in the last 
few months we discover that the Zeppelins are not employed — or, at all events, not 
mainly employed — for military purposes, but in order to shake the nerves of the 
non-combatant population. The history of the last few Zeppelin raids in Eng- 
land is quite sufficient testimony to this fact. London is bombarded, although it 
is an open city, and a large amount of damage is done to buildings wholly unconnected 
with the purposes of the war. The persons who are killed are not soldiers, they 
are civilians; the buildings destroyed are not munition works, but dwelling- 
houses, and some of the points of attack are theatres. 

The same thing has happened in the provinces. In the last raid over the 
Midlands railway stations were destroyed, some breweries were injured, but, with 
exceedingly few exceptions, munition works and factories for the production of arms 
were untouched. Here again the victims are not either soldiers or sailors, or even 
workmen employed in turning out instruments of war, but peaceable citizens and 
a large proportion of women and children. 

Some such act of brutality is illustrated in the accompanying cartoon. A 
private house has been attacked, the mother has been killed, the father and 
child are left desolate. The little daughter at her father's knee, who cannot under- 
stand why guiltless people should suffer, asks the importunate question whether 
her mother had done anything wrong to deserve so terrible a fate. To the childish 
mind it seems incomprehensible that aimless and indiscriminate murder should 
fall on the guiltless. 

Indeed the mother had done no wrong. She only happened to belong to one 
of the nations who are struggling against a barbaric tyranny. In that reckless 
crusade which the Central Powers are waging against all the higher laws of morality 
and civilization, some of the heaviest of the blows fall on the defenceless. It is 
this appalling inhumanity, this godless desire to maim and wound and kill, which 
nerves the arms of the Allies, who know that in a case like this they are fighting 
for freedom and for the Divine laws of mercy and loving-kindness. 

And it is for the young especially that the war is being waged, young boys 
and young girls like the motherless child in the picture, in order that they may 
inherit a Europe which shall be free from the horrible burden of German militarism, 
and be able to live useful lives in peace and quietness. No, little girl, mother did 
no wrong ! But we should be guilty of the deepest wrong if we did not avenge her 
death and that of other similar victims by making such unparalleled crimes 
impossible hereafter. 

W. L. COURTNEY. 



60 




THE ZEPPELIN TRIUMPH 
But Mother had done nothing wrong, had she, Daddy?" 



61 



T 



Keeping Out the Enemy 

HE Prussian turns everything to account, from the scrapings 
of the pig-trough to the Austrian Emperor. 



The Bavarian lists, the Saxon lists, the Austrian lists — 
these are all only indications of injuries to the Prussian's life-saving 
waistcoat. If this war is to be a war to the last penny and the last man, 
the last Austrian will die before the last Saxon, the last Saxon before 
the last Bavarian, the last Bavarian before the last Prussian — and the 
last Prussian will not die: he will live to clutch at the last penny. 

And the pity of it is that the Austrian is quite a good fellow, the 
Saxon is a decent sort of man, the Bavarian is chiefly a brute in drink, 
whilst the Prussian — we all know what the Prussian is, the black 
centre of hardness, the incarnation of the shady trick, and the very 
complex soul of mechanical efficiency. 

The Hohenzollern here makes a sandbag of the Hapsburg, of whom 
Fate has already made a football. 

Fate has always been behind the Hapsburg for his own sins and 
those of his house. She has made him kneel at last. 

H. DE VERE STACPOOLE. 



62 




'.■ u i s l~^\ a «■ m nrk> ' . r . 



" You see how I manage to keep the enemy out of my country 



63 



The German Offer 

THE German claim — not the Austrian nor the Turk, for the 
alliance following Germany is to be allowed little force — is that, 
the civilization of Europe now being defeated, a Roman pride 
may be generous to the fallen. Before modern Germany is routed, 
as may be seen in the features of its citizens, the nobility of its public 
works, and the admirable, restrained, and classic sense of its literature, 
this generosity to a humbled world will take the form of letting nations, 
of right independent, enjoy some measure of freedom under a German 
suzerainty. In the matter of property the magnanimous descendants 
of Frederick and William the Great will restore the machines which 
cannot be wrenched from their concrete beds, and the walls of the 
manufactories. More liquid property, such as jewellery, furniture, 
pictures — and coin — it will be more difficult to trace. In any case, 
Europe may breathe again, though with a shorter breath than it did 
before Germany conquered at the Marne. . . . This is the majestic 
vision which the subtle diplomats of Berlin present to the admiration 
of the neutral Powers, happily free from wicked passions of war, and 
not blinded, as are the British, French, Russians, Italians, Belgians, and 
the Serbians, by petty spite. Their audience, their triple audience, is 
part of Greece, some of the public of Spain, and sections of that of 
the United States. To the French and the British armies in the West, 
to the Russians in the East, and to the Italians upon their frontiers, 
the terms appear insufficient. Therein would seem to lie the gravity 
of Prussia's case. These belligerent Powers will go so far as to demand 
more than the mere restoration of stolen property, from cottage furni- 
ture to freedom. And their anger has risen so high that they even 
propose to make the acquirer of these goods suffer very bitterly indeed. 
What plea he will then raise under discomforts more serious than those he 
has caused to the peasants of Flanders and of Poland, and how those 
pleas will affect his neutral audience, will have no effect whatever on the 
result of the war, or on his own unpleasing fate. Those appeals will have 
a certain interest, however, because we know from the past that the 
German mind is unstable. Within fifteen short months it proposed the 
annihilation of the French armies and the occupation of Paris. It failed. 
It next offered terms upon suffering defeat. It withdrew them. It next 
made certain at least of a conquest of Russia, failed again, offered terms 
again, withdrew them again; was directed to the blockading of England, 
failed; thought Egypt better, and then changed its mind. It was but 
yesterday in the mood that this cartoon suggests; to-morrow its mood 
will have utterly changed again, probably to a whine, perhaps to a 
scream. Such instability is rare in the history of nations which purpose 
a conquest of others, and it is a very poor furniture for the mind. 

HILAIRE BELLOC. 



64 




The German : "If you will let me keep what I have, I will let you go." 



65 



The Wolf Trap 



THE wolf is not perhaps the beast by which one would most 
wish one's country to be represented. But the wolf, like every 
animal when defending its dearest, and when assailed with 
treachery, has its nobility. And the Roman she-wolf certainly has 
had in all ages her dignity and her force. 

"Thy nurse will hear no master, 

Thy nurse will bear no load, 
And woe to them that spear her, 

And woe to them that goad. 
When all the pack loud baying 

Her bloody lair surrounds, 
She dies in silence biting hard 

Amidst the dying hounds." 

Italy certainly calls not only for our sympathy, but for our admira- 
tion. She has had a very difficult course to steer. The ally for so 
long of Germany and Austria, if owing them less and less as time went 
on, it was difficult for her to break with them. But the day came 
when she had to break with them, and once again "act for herself." 
She told them a year ago she would be a party to no aggressive or selfish 
war, she would be no bully's accomplice. She "denounced" — it is 
a good word — such a compact. Non haec in fcedera veni. 

Then it was, when the she-wolf showed her teeth, that they offered 
to give her what was her own. But what would the Trentino be worth 
if Germany and Austria were victorious? No, the wolf is right, "she 
must fight for it," and behind Austria's underhanded treachery stands 
Germany's open violence and guns. 

And Italy loves freedom. This war is a war made by her people. 
As of old her King and her diplomats go with them in this new Resorgi- 
mento. And the she-wolf must beware the trap. She needs the spirit 
again not only of her people and of Garibaldi and of Victor Emmanuel, 
but of Cavour. And she has it. 

The cartoon suggests all the elements of the situation. The wolf 
ponders with turned head, half doubtful, half desperate. The poor 
little cub whimpers pitifully. The hunters dissemble their craft, the 
trap waits in the path ready to spring. It is not even concealed. Is 
that the irony of the artist, or is it only due to the necessity of making 
his meaning plain? Whichever it is, it is justified. 

HERBERT WARREN. 



66 




THE WOLF TRAP 
" You would make me believe that 1 shall have my cub given back to me, but 
1 know I shall have to fight for it." 



67 



Ahasuerus II 



THE legend of the Wandering Jew obsessed the imagination 
of the Middle Age. The tale, which an Armenian bishop first 
told at the Abbey of St. Albans, concerned a doorkeeper in 
the house of Pontius Pilate — or, as some say, a shoemaker in Jerusalem 
— who insulted Christ on His way to Calvary. He was told by Our 
Lord, " I will rest, but thou shalt go on till the Last Day." Christendom 
saw the strange figure in many places — at Hamburg and Leipsic and 
Lubeck, at Moscow and Madrid, even at far Bagdad. Goodwives 
in the little mediaeval cities, hastening homeward against the rising 
storm, saw a bent figure posting through the snow, with haggard face 
and burning eyes, carrying his load of penal immortality, and seeking 
in vain for "easeful death." There is a profound metaphysic in such 
popular fancies. Good and evil are alike eternal. Arthur and Charle- 
magne and Ogier the Dane are only sleeping and will yet return to save 
their peoples; and the Wandering Jew staggers blindly through the 
ages, seeking the rest which he denied to his Lord. 

In George Meredith's "Odes in Contribution to the Song of French 
History" there is a famous passage on Napoleon. France, disillu- 
sioned at last, 

" Perceives him fast to a harsher Tyrant bound; 
Self-ridden, self -hunted, captive of his aim; 
Material gradeur's ape, the Infernal's hound." 

That is the penalty of mortal presumption. The Superman who 
would shatter the homely decencies of mankind and set his foot on the 
world's neck is himself bound captive. He is the slave of the djinn 
whom he has called from the unclean deeps. There can be no end 
to his quest. Weariness does not bring peace, for the whips of the 
Furies are in his own heart. 

The Wandering Jew of the Middle Age was a figure sympathetically 
conceived. He had still to pay the price in his tortured body, but 
his soul was at rest, for he had repented his folly. Raemaekers in 
his cartoon follows the conception of Gustave Dore rather than that 
of the old fabulists. The modern Ahasuerus has no surety of an eventual 
peace. We have seen the German War Lord flitting hungrily from 
Lorraine to Poland, from Flanders to Nish, watching the failure of 
his troops before Nancy and Ypres, inditing grandiose proclamations 
to Europe, prophesying a peace which never comes. He is a figure 
worthy of Greek tragedy. The fi/3/w which defied the gods has put 
him outside the homely consolations of mankind. He has devoted his 
people to the Dance of Death, and himself, like some new Orestes, can 
find no solace though he seek it wearily in the four corners of the world. 

JOHN BUCHAN. 



68 




AHASUERUS RETURNS 
"Once I drove the Christ out of my door; now I am doomed to walk from the 
Northern Seas to the Southern, from the Western shores to the Eastern mountains, asking 
for Peace, and none will give it to me." — From the Legend of the " Wandering jew." 

69 



Our Candid Friend 

THE position of Holland and Denmark is one of excruciating 
anxiety to the citizens of those countries. They know that 
the Allies are fighting the battle of their own political existence, 
but they are so hypnotized with well-founded terror of the implacable 
tyrant on their flank that they are not only bound to neutrality, but are 
afraid to express their sympathies too plainly. Dutch editors have 
been admonished and punished under pressure from Berlin; the bril- 
liant artist of these cartoons is in danger on his native soil. A leading 
German newspaper has lately announced that "we will make Holland 
pay with interest for these insults after the war." A German victory 
would inevitably be followed in a few years by the disappearance from 
the map of this gallant and interesting little nation, our plucky rival 
in time past, our honoured friend to-day. No nation has established 
a stronger claim to maintain its independence, whether we consider 
the heroic and successful struggles of the Dutch for religious and 
political liberty, their triumphs in discovery, colonization, and naval 
warfare, their unique contributions to art, or the manly and vigorous 
character of their people. It is needless to say that we have no designs 
upon any Dutch colony! 

THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S. 



70 




JL^quiS. l^\<ri^n)aerv^i-<: _ 



OUR CANDID FRIEND 
Germany, to Holland : " I shall have to swallow you up, if only to prevent 
those English taking your colonies." 

71 



Peace and Intervention 

HERE is pictured a grim fact that the Peace cranks would do well 
to see plainly. The surgeon who is operating on a cancer case 
cannot allow himself to be satisfied with merely the removal 
of the visible growth which is causing such present agony to the pa- 
tient. He must cut and cut deep, must go beyond even the visible 
roots of the disease, slice down into the clear, firm flesh to make sure 
and doubly sure that he has cut away the last fragment of the tainted 
tissues. Only by doing so can he reasonably hope to prevent a recur- 
rence of the disease and the necessity of another operation in the 
years to come. And so only by carrying on this war until the last and 
least possibility of the taint of militarism remaining in the German sys- 
tem is removed can the Allies be satisfied that their task is complete. 
Modern surgery has through anaesthetics taken away from a patient 
the physical pain of most operations, but modern War affords no relief 
during its operation. That, however, can be held as no excuse for 
refusing to "use the knife." What would be said of the surgeon who, 
because an operation — a life-saving operation — was causing at the time 
even the utmost agony, stayed his hand, patched up the wound, was 
content only to stop the momentary pain, and to leave firm-rooted a 
disease which in all human probability would some time later break 
out again in all its virulence? What would be said of such a surgeon is 
only in lesser degree what would be said by posterity of the Allies if 
they consented or were persuaded to apply the bandage and healing 
herbs of Peace to the disease of Militarism, to make a surface cure and 
leave the living tentacles of the disease to grow again deep and strong. 
But here at least the doctors do not disagree. Once and for all the Ally 
surgeons mean to make an end to Militarism. The sooner the Peace 
cranks and Germany realize that the sooner the operation will be over. 

BOYD CABLE. 



72 




7»Li>i fsSjppivaelj^TS 



PEACE AND INTERVENTION— GERMAN MILITARISM ON THE 

OPERATING-TABLE 

" For the sake of the world's future we must first use the knife." 

73 



I 



Little Red Riding Hood 

F YOU wish to see the position of Holland look at the map of Europe 
as it was before August 4, 1914, and the map of Europe as it 
is to-day. 



In 1914 Holland lay overshadowed by the vast upper jaw-bone 
of a monster — Prussia — a jaw-bone reaching from the Dollart to Aix- 
la-Chapelle. 

In August and September, 1914, Prussia, by the seizure of Belgium, 
developed a lower jaw-bone reaching from Aix-la-Chapelle to Cassan- 
dria on the West Schelde. To-day Holland lies gripped between these 
two formidable mandibles that are ready and waiting to close and crush 
her. For years and years Prussia has been waiting to devour Holland. 
Why? For the simple reason that Holland is rich in the one essential 
thing that Prussia lacks— coast-line. 

Look again at the map and see how Holland and Belgium together 
absolutely wall Prussia in from the sea. Belgium has been taken on 
by Prussia; if we do not tear that lower jaw from Prussia, Holland 
will be lost, and the sea-power of England threatened with destruction. 

The ruffian with the automatic pistol waiting behind the tree 
requires the life as well as the basket of the little figure advancing 
toward him. 

He has been in ambush for forty years. 

H. DE VERE STACPOOLE. 



74 




LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD 
Germany lying in wait for Holland. 



The Sea Mine 



WHEN Raemaekers pictures Von Tirpitz to us, he does so 
with savage scorn. He is not the hard-bitten pirate of 
story — but a senile, crapulous, lachrymose imbecile; an 
object of derision. He fits more with one of Jacob's tales of long- 
shore soakers, than with the tragedies that have made him infamous. 
But when he draws Von Tirpitz's victims, the touch is one of almost 
harrowing tenderness. The Hun is a master of many modes of killing, 
but however torn, or twisted, or tortured he leaves the murdered, 
Raemaekers can make the dreadful spectacle bearable by the piercing 
dignity with which he portrays the dead. In none of these cartoons 
is his sseva indignatio rendered with more sheer beauty of design, or 
with a craftsmanship more exquisite, than in this monument to the 
sea-mined prey. The symbolism is perfect, and of the essence of the 
design. The dead sink slowly to their resting-place, but the merciful 
twilight of the sea veils from us the glazed horror of the eyes that 
no piety can now close. Even the dumb, senseless fish shoots from the 
scene in mute and terrified protest, while from these poor corpses 
there rise surfaceward the silver bubbles of their expiring breath. 
One seems to see crying human souls prisoned in these spheres. And 
it is, indeed, such sins as these that cry to Heaven for vengeance. 
Blood-guiltiness must rest upon the heads of those that do them, upon 
the heads of their children — aye, and of their children's children too. 
This exquisite and tender drawing is something more than the record 
of inexpiable crime. It is a prophecy. And the prophecy is a curse. 

ARTHUR POLLEN. 



76 








THE SEA MINE 



77 



"Seduction' 

THE cartoon in which the Prussian is depicted as saying to his 
bound and gagged victim, "Ain't I a lovable fellow?" is one 
of the most pointed and vital of all pictorial, or indeed other, 
criticisms on the war. It is very important to note that German 
savagery has not interfered at all with German sentimentalism. The 
blood of the victim and the tears of the victor flow together in an un- 
pleasing stream. The effect on a normal mind of reading some of the 
things the Germans say, side by side with some of the things they do, is 
an impression that can quite truly be conveyed only in the violent para- 
dox of the actual picture. It is exactly like being tortured by a man 
with an ugly face, which we slowly realize to be contorted in an attempt 
at an affectionate expression. In those soliloquies of self-praise which 
have constituted almost the whole of Prussia's defence in the inter- 
national controversy, the brigand of the Belgian annexation has 
incessantly said that his apparent hardness is the necessary accompani- 
ment of his inherent strength. Nietzsche said: "I give you a new 
commandment: Be hard." And the Prussian says: "I am hard," 
in a prompt and respectful manner. But, as a matter of fact, he is 
not hard; he is only heavy. He is not indifferent to all feelings; 
he is only indifferent to everybody else's feelings. At the thought 
of his own virtues he is always ready to burst into tears. His smiles, 
however, are even more frequent and more fatuous than his tears; 
and they are all leers like that which Mr. Baemaekers has drawn on the 
face of the expansive Prussian officer in the arm-chair. Compared 
with such an exhibition, there is something relatively virile about the 
tiger cruelty which has occasionally defaced the record of the Spaniard 
or the Arab. But to be conquered by such Germans as these would 
be like being eaten by slugs. 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



78 




cj^oufs" fy.if ,..;i'i!^'>- 



k_^ 



SEDUCTION 
"Ain't I a lovable fellow? 



79 



Murder on the High Seas 

THE recent descent of so many of her citizens from the people 
now warring in Europe has of necessity prevented America 
from looking on events in Europe with a single eye. But the pre- 
dominant American type and the predominant American frame of 
mind are still typified by the lithe and sinuous figure of the New 
England pioneer. It is his tradition to mind his own business, but 
it is also his business to see that none of the old monarchies make 
free with his rights or with his people. And he stands for a race 
that has been cradled in wars with savages. No one knows better 
the methods of the Apache and the Mohawk, and when women and 
children fall into such pitiless hands as these, it goes against the 
grain with Uncle Sam to keep his hands off them, even if the women and 
children are not his own. He would like to be indifferent if he 
could. He would prefer to smoke his cigar, and pass along, and be- 
lieve those who tell him that it is none of his affair. But when he 
does look — and he cannot help looking — he sees a figure of such 
heavy bestiality that his gorge rises. He must keep his hands clenched 
in his pockets lest he soils them in striking down the blood-stained 
gnome before him. 

Can he restrain himself for good? That angry glint in his eye 
would make one doubt it. Here, surely, the artist sees with a truer 
vision than the politician. And if Uncle Sam's anger does once get the 
better of him, if doubts and hesitations are ever thrust on one side, if 
he takes his stand where his record and his sympathies must make him 
wish to be, then let it be noted that this base butcher stands dazed and 
paralyzed by the threat. 

ARTHUR POLLEN. 



80 




J. .mi'iyTSpfr '-of *g r *- 



MURDER ON THE HIGH SEAS 
" Well, have you nearly done ? " 



81 



Ad Finem 



a Y — TO your end ! — to your end amid the execrations of a 
l\ ravaged world! Through all the ages one other only has 
^ *" equalled you in the betrayal of his trust. May your sin come 
home to you before you go, as did his! May his despair be yours! 
It is most desperately to be regretted that no personal suffering on 
your part, in this life at all events, can ever adequately requite you for 
the desolations you have wrought. 

Outrage on outrage thunders to the sky 

The tale of thy stupendous infamy, — 

Thy slaughterings, — thy treacheries, — thy thefts, — 

Thy broken pacts, — thy honour in the mire, — 

Thy poor humanity cast off to sate thy pride; — 

'Twere better thou hadst never lived, — or died 

Ere come to this. 

I heard a great Voice pealing through the heavens, 
A Voice that dwarfed earth's thunders to a moan: — 

Woe! Woe! Woe, to him by whom this came ! 

His house shall unto him be desolate 

And, to the end of time, his name shall be 

A byword and reproach in all the lands 

He repined. . . . And his own shall curse him 

For the ruin that he brought. 

Who without reason draws the sword — 

By sword shall perish ! 

The Lord hath said. . . . So be it, Lord! 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



82 




TO THE END 

War and Hunger : "Now you must accompany us to the end. 
The Kaiser : " Yes, to my end." 



83 



rr 



U'S" 



IT IS the essence of great cartooning to see things simply, and to 
command the technical resources that shall show the things, so 
simply seen, in an infinite variety of aspects. No series of Rae- 
maekers' drawing better exemplifies his quality in both these respects 
than those which deal with Germany's sea crimes. 

In the cartoon before us the immediate message is of the simplest. 
The Kaiser counts the head of British merchantmen sunk. Von 
Tirpitz counts the cost. But note the subtlety of the personation and 
environment. The Kaiser has those terrible haunted eyes that have 
marked the seer's presentment of him from quite an early stage of the 
war. There can be no ultimate escape from the dreadful vision that 
has set the seal of despair on this fine and handsome visage. He is 
shown, not as a sea monster, but as some rabid, evasive, impatient thing, 
dashing from point to point — as from policy to policy — with the angry 
swish that tells the unspoken anger failure everywhere compels. For 
the victories do not bring surrender, nor does frightfulness inspire ter- 
ror. The merchant ships still put to sea — and the U boats pay the 
penalty. 

The futility of this campaign of murder is typified by making Von 
Tirpitz, its inventor, an addle-headed seahorse, the nursery comedian 
of the sea. Stupid and ridiculous bewilderment stares from his foolish 
eyes. Another submarine has failed to find a safe victim in a trading 
ship, but has been hoisted with its own sea petard. The impotence of 
the thing! 

This conference of the Admirals of the Atlantic, held in the sombre 
depths, is a biting satire, in its mingled comedy and tragedy, on the 
effort to win command of the sea from its bottom. 

ARTHUR POLLEN. 



84 










-J 2.1 •' I r^dPMtff^p 



U'S' 



His Majesty : "Well, Tripitz, you've sunk a great many?" 
Tirpitz : " Yes, sire, here is another ' U ' coming down." 



85 



Mater Dolorosa 

YOU thought to grasp the world ; but you shall keep 
Its crown of curses nailed upon your brow. 
You that have fouled the purple, broke your vow, 
And sowed the wind of death, the whirlwind you shall reap. 

Shout to your tribal god to bless the blood 
Of this red vintage on the poisoned earth; 
Clash cymbals to him, leap and shout in mirth ; 
Call on his name to stay the coming, cleansing flood. 

We are no hounds of heaven, nor ravening band 
Of earthly wolves to tear your kingdom down. 
We stand for human reason; at our frown 
The coward sword shall fall from your accursed hand. 

We do not speak of vengeance; there shall run 
No little children's blood beneath our heel. 
No pregnant woman suffers from our steel; 
But Justice we shall do, as sure as set of sun. 



Or short, or long, the pathway of your feet, 
Stamped on the faces of the innocent dead, 
Must lead where tyrant's road hath ever led. 
Alone, perjured soul, your Justice you shall meet. 

No sacrifice the balance of her scale 

Can win; no gift of blood and iron can weigh 

Against this one mad mother's agony: 

In her demented cry a myriad women wail. 

The equinox of outraged earth shall blaze 

And flash its levin on your infamous might. 

Man cries to fellow-man ; light leaps to light, 

Till foundered, naked, spent, you vanish from our gaze. 

EDEN PHILLPOTTS. 



86 







MATER DOLOROSA 



87 



' r Gott Strafe Italien! 



11 



WHEN Italy, still straining at the leash which held her, helpless, 
to the strange and unnatural Triplice, began to show signs of 
awakening consciousness, Germany's efforts to lull her back 
to the unhappy position of silent partner in the world-crime were char- 
acteristic of her methods. Forthwith Italy was loaded with compli- 
ments. The country was overrun with "diplomats," which is another 
name in Germany for spies. Bribery of the most brazen sort was 
attempted. The newspapers recalled in chorus that Italy was the 
land of art and chivalry, of song and heroism, of fabled story and manly 
effort, of honour and loyalty. Hark to the Hamburger Fremdenblatt 
of February 21, 1915: 

"The suggestion is made that Italy favours the Allies. Pre- 
posterous ! Even though the palsied hand of England — filled with rob- 
ber gold — be held out to her, Italy's vows, Italy's sense of obligation, 
Italy's word once given, can never be broken. Such a nation of noblemen 
could have no dealings with hucksters." 

Germany is, indeed, a fine judge of a nation's "word once given" 
and a nation's "vows," which its Chancellor unblushingly declared 
to be mere scraps of paper. Now let us see what the Hamburger 
Nachrichten had to say about Italy immediately after her secession 
from the Triple Alliance: "Nachrichten, June 1, 1915. That Italy 
should have joined hands with the other noble gentlemen, our enemies, 
is but natural. It would, of course, be absurd — where all are brigands 
— were the classical name of brigandage not included in the number. 
. . . We do not propose to soil our clean steel with the blood of 
such filthy Italian scum. With our cudgels we shall smash them into 
pulp." 

"Gott strafe Italien" indeed! Bombs on St. Mark's in Venice, 
on the Square of Verona, on world treasures unreplaceable. The 
poisoned breath of Germany carries its venom into the land of sun- 
shine and song, whose best day's work in history has been to wrest 
itself free from the grip of the false friend. 

RALPH D. BLUMENFELD. 



88 



J 1 -— - I 







_I©u 1 5» ]-nJJo<"> n-.c\e (^r £ , 



GOTT STRAFE ITALIEN! 



89 



Serbia 



SERBIA has suffered the fate of Belgium. Germany and Austria, 
with Bulgaria's aid, have plunged another little country "in 
blood and destruction." Another "bleeding piece of earth" 
bears witness to the recrudescence of the ancient barbarism of the Huns. 
Serbia's wounds, 

"Like dumb mouths, 
Do ope their ruby lips," 

to beg for vengeance on "these butchers." Turkey, whom the artist 
portrays as a hound lapping up the victim's blood, is fated to share the 
punishment for the crime. But the prime instigator is the German 
Emperor, whose Chancellor, with bitter irony, claims for his master 
the title of protector of the small nationalities of Europe. Herr von 
Bethmann-Hollweg can on occasion affect the mincing accents of the 
wolf when that beast seeks to lull the cries of the lamb in its clutches. 
The German method of waging war has rendered "dreadful objects 
so familiar" that the essential brutality of the enemy's activities 
runs a risk of escaping at times the strenuous denunciation which 
Justice demands. But the searching pencil of Mr. Raemaekers brings 
home to every seeing eye the true and unvarying character of Teutonic 
"frightfulness." All instincts of humanity are cynically defied on the 
specious ground of military necessity. Mr. Raemaekers is at one with 
Milton in repudiating the worthless plea : 

"So spake the fiend, and with necessity, 
The tyrant's plea, excused his devilish deeds." 

SIR SIDNEY LEE. 



90 



I I mm gn 




ILL— 011 '^T~V^ en " >q f e^S 



OCTOBER IN SERBIA 
The Austro-German-Bulgarian attack on Serbia began in October, which in 
Holland is called the " butcher's month," as the cattle are then killed preparatory 

to the winter. 

91 



"Just a Moment — I'm Coming" 

HERE is a drawing that ought to be circulated broadcast through- 
out Australia and New Zealand, that ought to hold a place 
of honour on the walls of their public chambers; should hang 
in gilded frames in the houses of the rich; be pinned to the rough walls 
of frame-house and bark humpy in every corner of "The Outback." 
It should thrill the heart of every man, woman, and child Down 
Under with pride and thankfulness and satisfaction, should even bring 
soothing balm to the wounds of those who in the loss of their nearest 
and dearest have paid the highest and the deepest price for the flaming 
glory of the Anzacs in Gallipoli. 

Here in the artist's pencil is a monument to those heroes greater 
than pinnacles of marble, of beaten brass and carven stone; a monu- 
ment that has travelled over the world, has spoken to posterity more 
clearly, more convincingly, and more rememberingly than ever written 
or word-of-mouth speech could do. It is to the everlasting honour 
of the people of the Anzacs that they refrained from echoing the 
idle tales which ran whispering in England that the Dardanelles 
campaign was a cruel blunder, that the blood of the Anzacs' bravest 
and best had been uselessly spilt, that their splendid young lives 
had been an empty sacrifice to the demons of Incompetence and 
Inefficiency. To those in Australia who in their hearts may feel that 
shreds of truth were woven in the rumours — that the Anzacs were 
spent on a forlorn hope, were wasted on a task foredoomed to failure — 
let this simple drawing bring the comfort of the truth. 

The artist has seen deeper and further than most. The Turkish 
armies held from pouring on Russia and Serbia, from thumping down 
the scales of neutrality in Greece and Roumania perhaps, from massing 
their troops with the Central Powers; the Kaiser chained on the East 
and West for the critical months when men and munitions were desper- 
ately lacking to the Allies, when the extra weight of the Turks might 
have freed the Kaiser's power of fierce attack on East and West 
this is what we already know, what the artist here tells the wide world 
of the part played by the heroes of the Dardanelles. In face of this, 
who dare hint they suffered and died in vain? 

BOYD CABLE. 



92 




" JUST A MOMENT— I'M COMING. 



93 



The Holy War 



SURELY the artist when he drew this was endowed with the 
wisdom of the seer, the vision of the prophet. For it was 
drawn before the days in which I write, before the Russian 
giant had proved his greatness on the body of the Turk, before the 
bludgeon-strokes in the Caucasus, the heart-thrust of Erzerum, the 
torrent of pursuit of the broken Turks to Mush and Trebizond. 

We know — and I am grateful for the chance to voice our gratitude 
to him — the greatness of our Russian Ally. We remember the early 
days when the Kaiser's hosts were pouring in over France, and the 
Russian thrust into Galicia drew some of the overwhelming weight 
from the Western Front. We realize now the nobility of self-sacrifice 
that flung an army within reach of the jaws of destruction, that risked 
its annihilation to draw upon itself some of the sword-strokes that 
threatened to pierce to the heart of the West. Our national and 
natural instinct of admiration for a hard fighter, and still greater 
admiration for the apex of good sportmanship, for the friend or foe 
who can "take a licking," who is a "good loser," went out even more 
strongly to Russia in the dark days when, faced by an overwhelming 
weight of metal, she was forced and hammered and battered back, 
losing battle-line after battle-line, stronghold after stronghold, city 
after city; losing everything except heart and dogged punishment- 
enduring courage. 

And how great the Russian truly is will surely be known presently 
to the Turk and to the masquerading false "Prophet of Allah." 

"No one is great save Allah," says William, and even as the 
Turk spoke more truly than he knew in calling the Russian great, 
even as he was bitterly to realize the greatness, so in the fullness of 
time must William come to realize how great is the Allah of the Moslem, 
the Christian God Whom he has blasphemed, and in Whose name he 
and his people have perpetrated so many crimes and abominations. 

BOYD CABLE. 



94 




_! — >t>ui. |~\aernuel^ei^ . 



THE HOLY WAR 

The Turk : " But he is so great." 

William : "No one is great, save Allah, and I am his prophet." 



95 



"Gott Mit Uns" 

WHEN we consider the public utterances of the German clergy, 
we can very easily substitute for their symbol of Christian 
faith this malignant, grotesque, and inhuman monster of Louis 
Raemaekers. Indeed, our inclination is to thrust the green demon 
himself into the pulpit of the Fatherland; for his wrinkled skull could 
hatch and his evil mouth utter no more diabolic sentiments than those 
recorded and applauded from Lutheran Leipsic, or from the University 
and the chief Protestant pulpit in Berlin. 



Such sermons are a part of that national debacle of reasoning faculty 
which is the price intellectual Germany has paid for the surrender of 
her soul to Prussia. 



An example or two may be cited from the outrageous mass. 

Professor Rheinhold Seeby, who teaches theology at Berlin Univer- 
sity, has described his nation's achievements in Belgium and Serbia 
as a work of charity, since Germany punishes other States for their good 
and out of love. Pastor Philippi, also of Berlin, has said that, as God 
allowed His only Son to be crucified, that His scheme of redemption 
might be accomplished, so Germany, God with her, must crucify 
humanity in order that its ultimate salvation may be secured; and 
the Teutonic nation has been chosen to perform this task, because 
Germany alone is pure and, therefore, a fitting instrument for the 
Divine Hand. Satan, who has returned to earth in the shape of Eng- 
land, must be utterly destroyed, while the immoral friends and allies of 
Satan are called to share his fate. Thus evil will be swept off the earth 
and the German Empire henceforth stand supreme protector of the new 
kingdom of righteousness. Pastor Zoebel has ordered no compromise 
with hell; directed his flock to be pleased at the sufferings of the enemy; 
and bade them rejoice when thousands of the non-elect are sent to the 
bottom of the sea. 



Yes, we will give the green devil his robe and bands until Germany 
is in her strait-jacket; after which experience, her conceptions of a 
Supreme Being and her own relation thereto may become modified. 

EDEN PHILLPOTTS. 



96 




GOTT MIT UNS' 



97 



The Widows of Belgium 

THIS deeply pathetic picture evokes the memory of many sad 
and patient faces which we have seen during the last eighteen 
months. It is the women, after all — wives, mothers, sisters, 
and daughters — who have the heaviest load to bear in war-time. 



The courage and heroism which they have shown are an honour to 
human nature. The world is richer for it; and the sacrifices which 
they have bravely faced and nobly borne may have a greater effect in 
convincing mankind of the wickedness and folly of aggressive militarism 
than all the eloquence of peace advocates. 

We must not forget that the war has made about six German 
widows for every one in our country. With these we have no quarrel; 
we know that family affection is strong in Germany, and we are sorry 
for them. They, like our own suffering women, are the victims of a 
barbarous ideal of national glory, and a worse than barbarous per- 
version of patriotism, which in our opponents has become a kind of 
moral insanity. 

These pictures will remain long after the war-passion has subsided. 
They will do their part in preventing a recrudescence of it. Who that 
has ever clamoured for war can face the unspoken reproach in these 
pitiful eyes? Who can think unmoved of the happy romance of wedded 
love, so early and so sadly terminated? 

THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S. 



98 




THE WIDOWS OF BELGIUM 



99 



The Harvest Is Ripe 

THE artist spreads before you a view such as you would have on 
the great wheat-growing plains of Hungary, or on the level 
plateau of Asiatic Turkey — the vast, unending, monotonous, un- 
divided field of corn. In the background the view is interrupted by 
two villages from which great clouds of flame and smoke are rising — 
they are both on fire — and as you look closer at the harvest you see 
that, instead of wheat, it consists of endless regiments of marching 
soldiers. 

"The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few": here is only 
one, but he is quite sufficient — "the reaper whose name is Death," 
a skeleton over whose bones the peasant's dress — a shirt and a pair of 
ragged trousers — hangs loose. The shirt-sleeves of the skeleton are 
turned well up, as if for more active exertion, as he grasps the two holds 
of the huge scythe with which he is sweeping down the harvest. 

This is not war of the old type, with its opportunities for chivalry, 
its glories, and its pride of manly strength. The German development 
of war has made it into a mere exercise in killing, a business of slaughter. 
Which side can kill most, and itself outlast the other? When one 
reads the calculations by which careful statisticians demonstrate that 
in the first seventeen months of the war Germany alone lost over a 
million of men killed in battle, one feels that this cartoon is not exag- 
gerated. It is the bare truth. 

The ease with which the giant figure of Death mows down the 
harvest of tiny men corresponds, in fact, to the million of German 
dead, probably as many among the Russians, to which must be added 
the losses among the Austrians, the French, the British, the Belgians, 
Italians, Serbs, Turks, and Montenegrins. The appalling total is this 
vast harvest which covers the plain. 

WILLIAM MITCHELL RAMSAY. 



100 




THE HARVEST IS RIPE 



101 



"Unmasked" 

THE "Yellow Book," it may be remembered, was the official 
publication of some of the details of atrocities committed 
by the Huns on the defenceless women and children of rav- 
ished Belgium. It told in cold and unimpassioned sentences, in plain 
and simple words more terrible than the most fervid outpourings 
of patriot or humanitarian, the tale of brutalities, of cold-blooded 
crimes, of murders and rape and mental and physical tortures beyond 
the capabilities or the imaginings of savages, possible only in their 
refinements of cruelty to the civilized apostles of Kultur. There are 
many men in the trenches of the Allies to-day who will say that the 
German soldier is a brave man, that he must be brave to advance to 
the slaughter of the massed attack, to hold to his trenches under the 
horrible punishment of heavy artillery fire. 

As a nation we are always ready to admit and to admire physical 
courage, and if Germany had fought a "clean fight," had "played the 
game," starkly and straightly, against our fighting men, we could — and 
our fighting men especially could, and I believe would — have helped 
her to her feet and shaken hands honestly with her after she was beaten. 
But with such a brute beast as the unmasking of the "Yellow Book" has 
revealed Germany to be we can never feel friendship, admiration, or 
respect. 

The German is a "dirty fighter," and to the British soldier that 
alone puts him beyond the pale. He has outraged all the rules and 
the instincts of chivalry. His bravery in battle is the bravery of a 
ravening wolf, of a blood-drunk savage animal. It is only left to the 
Allies to treat him as such, to thrash him by brute force, and then to 
clip his teeth and talons and by treaty and agreement amongst them- 
selves to keep him chained and caged beyond the possibility of another 
outbreak. 

BOYD CABLE. 



102 



,\ 




iJL'GuVsTR^rwkjp*'.* 



UNMASKED 
The Yellow Book 



103 



The Great Surprise 

IN THE note to another picture I have remarked on the farcical 
hypocrisy of the German Emperor in presenting himself, as he 
so often does, as the High Priest of several different religions at 
the same time. They are nearly all of them religions with which he 
would have no sort of concern, even if his religious pose were as real 
as it is artificial. 

Being in fact the ruler and representative of a country which 
alone among European countries builds with complete security upon 
the conviction that all Christianity is dead, he can only be, even 
in theory, the prince of an extreme Protestant State. Long before 
the War it was common for the best caricaturists of Europe, and 
even of Germany, to make particular fun of these preposterous tem- 
porary Papacies in which the Kaiser parades himself as if for a fancy- 
dress ball; and in the accompanying picture Mr. Raemaekers has 
returned more or less to this old pantomimic line of satire. 

The cartoon recalls some of those more good-humoured, but per- 
haps equally contemptuous, sketches in which the draughtsmen of the 
French comic papers used to take a particular delight; which made a 
whole comic Bible out of the Kaiser's adventures during his visit to 
Palestine. Here he appears as Moses, and the Red Sea has been dried 
up to permit the passage of himself and his people. 

It would certainly be very satisfactory for German world-politics 
if the sea could be dried up everywhere; but it is unlikely that the 
incident will occur, especially in that neighbourhood. It will be long 
before a German army is as safe in the Suez Canal as a German Navy 
in the Kiel Canal; and the higher critics of Germany will have no 
difficulty in proving, in the Kiel Canal at all events, that the safety 
is due to human and not to divine wisdom. 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



104 




THE GREAT SURPRISE 
Moses II leads his chosen people through the Red Sea to the promised (Eng)land. 



105 



Thou Art the Man! 

THE Man of Sorrows is flogged, and thorn-crowned, and crucified, 
and pierced afresh, by this other man of sorrows, who has 
brought greater bitterness and woe on earth than any other of 
all time. And in his soul — for soul he must have, though small sign 
of it is evidenced — he knows it. Deceive his dupes as he may — for a 
time — his own soul must be a very hell of broken hopes, disappointed 
ambitions, shattered pride, and the hideous knowledge of the holocaust 
of human life he has deliberately sacrificed to these heathen gods of his. 
No poorest man on earth would change places with this man-that- 
might-have-been, for his time draws nigh and his end is perdition. 

Let That Other speak: 

"Their souls are Mine. 
Their lives were in thy hand; — 
Of thee I do require them! 

"The fetor of thy grim burnt-offerings 

Comes up to Me in clouds of bitterness. 

Thy fell undoings crucify afresh 

Thy Lord — who died alike for these and thee. 

Thy works are Death: — thy spear is in My side, — 

O man! man! — was it for this I died? 

Was it for this?— 

A valiant people harried to the void, — 
Their fruitful fields a burnt-out wilderness, — 
Their prosperous country ravelled into waste, — - 
Their smiling land a vast red sepulchre, — 
— Thy work! 

"Thou art the man! The scales were in thy hand. 
For this vast wrong I hold thy soul in fee. 
Seek not a scapegoat for thy righteous due, 
Nor hope to void thy countability. 
Until thou purge thy pride and turn to Me, — 
As thou hast done, so be it unto thee!" 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



106 




iUu.sKa^erpkrrS 



THOU ART THE MAN 
"We wage war on Divine principles. 



107 



Sympathy 



THE cartoon requires no words to tell the story. It holds chapter 
upon chapter of tragedy. " I will send you to Germany after 
your father!" Where is the boy's father in Germany? In a 
prison? Mending roads? Lying maimed and broken in a rude hos- 
pital? Digging graves for comrades about to be shot? Or, more likely 
still, in a rough unknown stranger's grave? Was the father dragged 
from his home at Louvain, or Tirlemont, or Vise, or one of the dozen 
other scenes of outrage and murder — a harmless, hard-working citizen — 
dragged from his hiding-place and made to suffer "exemplary justice" 
for having "opposed the Kaiser's might," but in reality because he was 
a Belgian, for whose nasty breed there must be demonstrations of 
Germany's frightfulness pour encourager les autres? 

And the child's mother and sisters — what of them? He is de- 
jected, but not broken. There is dignity in the boy's defiant pose. 
The scene has, perhaps, been enacted hundreds of times in the cities of 
Belgium, where poignant grief has come to a nation which dared to be 
itself. 

Follow this boy through life and observe the stamp of deep resolve 
on his character. Though he be sent "to Germany after your father," 
though he be for a generation under the German jack-boot, his spirit 
will sustain him against the conqueror and will triumph in the end. 

RALPH D. BLUMENFELD. 



108 









i ^L j oo * sT\<3fem ne/<« 



&&J 



SYMPATHY 
"If I find you again looking so sad, I'll send you to Germany after your father.' 



109 



The Refugees 



THE wonder is not that women went mad, but that there are left 
any sane civilians of the ravished districts of Belgium after 
all those infamies perpetrated under orders by the German 
troops after the first infuriating check of Liege and before the final 
turning of the German line at the battle of the Marne. We have 
supped full of horrors since, and by an insensible process grown something 
callous. But we never came near to realizing the Belgian agony, and 
Raemaekers does us service by helping to make us see it mirrored in 
the eyes of this poor raving girl. This indeed is a later incident, but 
will serve for reminder of the earlier worse. 

It is really not well to forget. These were not the inevitable hor- 
rors of war, but a deliberately calculated effect. There seems no hope 
of the future of European civilization till the men responsible for such 
things are brought to realize that, to put it crudely and at its lowest, 
they don't pay. 

What the attitude of Germany now is may be guessed from the 
blank refusal even of her bishops to sanction the investigation which 
Cardinal Merrier asks for. It is still the gentle wolf's theory that the 
truculent lamb was entirely to blame. 

JOSEPH THORP. 



110 




v- - 



THE REFUGEES FROM GHEEL 
Gheel has a model asylum for the insane. On the fall of Antwerp the inmates were 
conveyed across the frontier. The cartoon illustrates an incident where a woman, while 
wheeling a lunatic, herself developed insanity from the scenes she witnessed. 

Ill 



rr The Junker" 

THERE were few things that Junkerdom feared so much in 
modern Germany as the growth and effects of Socialism; and 
it is certain that the possible attitude of the German Socialists 
— who were thought by some writers to numbei somewhere in the neigh- 
bourhood of two million — in regard to the War at its outset greatly 
exercised the minds of Junkerdom and the Chancellor. A few days 
after the declaration of War a well-known English Socialist said to us, 
"I believe that the Socialists will be strong enough greatly to handicap 
Germany in the carrying on of the War, and possibly, if she meets 
with reverses in the early stages, to bring about Peace before Christ- 
mas." 

That was in August, 1914, and we are now well on in the Spring of 
1916. We reminded the speaker that on a previous occasion, when 
Peace still hung in the balance, he had declared with equal conviction 
that there would be no War because "the Socialists are now too strong 
in Germany not to exercise a preponderating restraining influence." 
He has proved wrong in both opinions. And one can well imagine 
that the Junker class admires Chancellor von Bethmann-Hollweg for 
the astute manner in which he has succeeded in shepherding the German 
Socialist sheep for the slaughter, and in muzzling their representatives 
in the Reichstag. 

CLIVE HOLLAND. 



112 




[gyfe | - 



THE JUNKER 

" What I have most admired in you, Bethmann, is that you have made Socialists our 
best supporters." 



113 



rr Au Milieu De Fantomes Tristes 
Et Sans Nombre" 

THERE is something daunting, even to the mind of one not 
guilty of war or of massacres, in the thought of multitudes: 
the multitude of the dead, of the living, of one generation of 
men since there have been men on earth. And war brings this 
horror to us daily, or rather nightly, because such great companies of 
men have suddenly died together, passing in comradeship and com- 
munity from the known to the unknown. Yet dare we say "together?" 
The unparalleled solitariness and singleness of death is not altered by 
the general and simultaneous doom of battle. 

And it is with the multitude, and all the ones in it, that the maker 
of war is in unconscious relation. He does not know their names, 
he does not know them by any kind of distinction, he knows them only 
by thousands. Yet every one with a separate life and separate death 
is in conscious relation with him, knows him for the tyrant who has 
taken his youth, his hope, his love, his fatherhood. 

What a multitude to meet, whether in thought, in conscience, or in 
another world ! We all, no doubt, try to make the thought of massacre 
less intolerable to our minds by telling ourselves that the sufferers 
suffer one by one, to each his own share, and not another's; that though 
the numbers may appeal, they do not make each man's part more 
terrible. But this is not much comfort. There is not, it is true, a 
sum of multiplication; but there is the sum of addition. And that 
addition — the multitude man by man — the War Lord has tp reckon 
with: Frederick the Great with his men, Napoleon with his, the Ger- 
man Emperor with his — each one of the innumerable unknown knowing 
his destroyer. 

ALICE MEYNELL. 



114 




" Mais quand la voix de Dieu l'appela il se voyait seul sur la terre au milieu de 
fantomes tristes et sans nombre." 



115 



Bluebeard's Chamber 

THE Committee of Enquiry, like another Portia, clothed in the 
ermine-trimmed robe of Justice and the Law, has unlocked with 
the key of Truth the door of the closed chamber. The key lies 
behind her inscribed in Dutch with the name that tells its nature. The 
Committee then pulls back the curtain, and reveals the horrors that are 
behind it. Before the curtain is fully drawn back, Enquiry sinks 
almost in collapse at the terrible sight that is disclosed. There hang 
to pegs on the wall the bodies of Bluebeard's victims, a woman, an old 
man, a priest, two boys, and a girl still half hidden behind the curtain. 
The blood that has trickled from them coagulates in pools on the ground. 

Bluebeard himself comes suddenly: he hurries down the steps 
brandishing his curved sword, a big, burly figure, with square, thick 
beard, and streaming whiskers, wearing a Prussian helmet, his mouth 
open to utter a roar of rage and fury. The hatred and scorn with 
which the artist inspires his pictures of Prussia are inexhaustible in 
their variety: Prussia is barbarism attempting to trample on law and 
education, brutality beating down humanity, a grim figure, the in- 
carnation of "frightfulness." I can imagine the feelings with which 
all Germans must regard the picture that the Dutch artist always gives 
of their country, if they regard Prussia as their country. "For every 
cartoon of Raemaekers," said a German newspaper, "the payment 
will be exacted in full, when the reckoning is made up." To this painter 
the Prussian ruling power is incapable of understanding what nobility 
of nature means. He can practise on and take advantage of the 
vices and weaknesses of his enemies; he can buy the services of many 
among them, and have all the worser people in his fee as his servants 
and agents; but he is always foiled, because he forgets that some men 
cannot be bought, and that these men will steel their fellow-country- 
men's minds to resist tyranny to the last. The mass of men can be 
led either to evil or to good. 

The Prussian military system assumes the former as certain, and is 
well skilled in the way. But there is the latter way, too, which Prussia 
never knew and never takes into account as a possibility; and men as 
a whole prefer the way to good before the way to evil, when both are 
fully explained and made clear. This saves men, and ruins Prussia. 

WILLIAM MITCHELL RAMSAY. 



116 




BLUEBEARD'S CHAMBER 
The horrors perpetrated by the Germans were brought to light by the Belgian 
Committee of Enquiry. 



117 



The Raid 



THE seaman of history is a chivalrous and romantic figure, a 
gallant and relentless fighter, a generous and a tender conqueror. 
In Codrington's first letter to his wife after the battle of Trafal- 
gar, he tells her to send £100 to one of the French captains who goes to 
England from the battle as a prisoner of war. The British and French 
navies cherish a hundred memories of acts like these. If the German 
navy survives the war what memories will it have? It must search the 
gaols for the exemplars in peace of the acts that win them the Iron 
Cross in war. 

Note in this drawing that the types selected are not in themselves 
base units of humanity. They have been made so by the beastly 
crimes superior orders have forced them to commit. But even this 
has not brought them so low but they wonder at the topsy-turvydom 
of war that brings them honour where poor Black Mary only got her 
deserts in gaol. 

The crimes of the higher command have passed in Germany uncon- 
demned and unbanned by cardinals and bishops. But the conscience 
of Germany cannot be wholly dead. Nor will six years only be the 
term of Germany's humiliation and remorse. The spotless white of 
the naval uniform, sullied and besmirched by those savage cruelties, 
cannot, any more than the German soul, be brought back "whiter 
than snow" by any bestowal of the Iron Cross. The effort to cleanse 
either would "the multitudinous seas incarnadine." 

ARTHUR POLLEN. 



118 



Hie^-R 




o e ma p l< <?r ^ 



THE RAID 
" Do you remember Black Mary of Hamburg ? " 
"Aye, well." 

"She got six years for killing a child, whilst we get the Iron Cross for killing 
twenty at Hartlepool." 

119 



Better a Living Dog Than a Dead 

Lion 

HERE is the grim choice of alternatives presented to other nations 
by the creed of Deutschland iiber Alles — the cost of resistance 
and the reward of submission. On one side lies the man who 
has fought a good fight "for Freedom." He has lost his life but won an 
immortal memory inscribed upon the cross. The other has saved his 
life, and lo! it is a "dog's life." He is not even a well-treated dog. 
Harnessed, muzzled, chained, he crawls abjectly on hands and knees 
and drags painfully along the road, not only the cart, but his heavy 
master too. 

In the Netherlands and other parts of the Continent, where 
dogs are used to pull little carts, the owner generally pulls too; it 
is a partnership in which the dog is treated as a friend and visibly 
enjoys doing his share. Partnership with Germany is another matter. 
The dog does all the work, the German takes his ease with his great 
feet planted on the submissive creature's back. 

The belligerent nations have made their choice. Germany's part- 
ners have chosen submission and are playing the dog's part, as they 
have discovered. The Allies on the other side are paying the price of re- 
sistance in the sacrifice of life for Freedom. And what of the neutrals? 
They are evading the choice under cover of the Allies and waxing fat 
meanwhile. It is not a very heroic attitude and will exclude them 
from any voice in the settlement. But we understand their position, 
and at least they are ready to fight for their own freedom. There are, 
however, individuals who are not ready to fight at all. They call 
themselves conscientious objectors, prate of the law of Christ, and pose 
as idealists. If they followed Christ they would sacrifice their lives 
for others, but they are only concerned for their own skins. Their 
place is in the shafts, The true idealist lies beneath the Cross. 

ARTHUR SHADWELL. 



120 




1 ,_oujs~T<« 



»«ek»rfr— — - 

BETTER A LIVING DOG THAN A DEAD LION 



The Driver : " You are a worthy Dutchman. He who lies there was a foolish 

idealist." 



121 



The Burden of the Intolerable 



Day 



M 



OST people have wondered from time to time what the Kaiser 
thinks in his inmost heart and in the solitude of his own cham- 
ber about the condition of Germany and about the War. 
What impression has been made on him by the alternation of victories 
and failures during the last twenty months? After all he has staked 
everything — he has everything to lose. What does he feel? What 
impression do the frightful losses of his own people make on him? 

Raemaekers tells in this cartoon. The Kaiser has this moment 
been wakened from sleep by the entrance of a big gorgeously dressed 
footman, carrying his morning tea. The panelling of the royal chamber 
in the palace at Potsdam is faintly indicated. The Kaiser sits up in 
bed, and a look of agony gathers on his face as he realizes that he has 
wakened up to the grim horror of a new day, and that the delightful 
time which he has just been living through was only a dream. He had 
dreamed that the whole thing was not true — that the War had never 
really occurred, and that he could face the world with a conscience 
clear from guilt; and now he has wakened up to bear the burden for 
another day. It is written in his face what he thinks. You see the deep 
down-drawn lines in the lower part of the face, the furrows upon the fore- 
head, and the look almost of terror in the eyes. But a smug-faced 
flunkey offers him a cup of tea with buttered toast, and he must come 
back to the pretence of that tragi-comedy, the life of the King-Emperor. 

The Dutch artist is fully alive to the comic element which underlies 
that tragedy. The King-Emperor, as he awakes from sleep and sits for- 
ward from that mountain of pillows, would be a purely comic figure were 
it not for the terrible tragedy written in his face. A footman in brilliant 
livery is a comic figure. The splendour of this livery brings out the 
comic element by its contrast to, and yet its harmony with, the stupid 
self-satisfaction of the countenance and the curls of the powdered hair. 

The Kaiser, however, awakens to more than the pretences and 
shams of court life. The vast dreams which he cherished before the 
War of world-conquest and an invincible Germany are fled now, and he 
must face, open-eyed and awake, the stern reality. 

WILLIAM MITCHELL RAMSAY. 



122 







THE AWAKENING 
had such a delightful dream that the whole thing was not true. 



123 



Eagle in Hen-run 

THE Dutchman who could see this cartoon and not admit its 
simple truth would have to be a very blind pro-German. At 
present time it pays Germany to pretend a friendship for Hol- 
land, but the premeditated murder of Belgium is a plain object-lesson of 
the sort of friendship and agreement that Germany makes with a coun- 
try and people which stand in her way and are too small to withstand 
her brute force. Can any Dutchman doubt what would be Holland's 
fate if Germany emerged even moderately victorious from this war? 
The German War Staff would give a good deal to have the control of 
Holland and a free passage to the sea from Antwerp. They refrain 
from using force to gain that control only because they cannot afford 
to have a fresh frontier to guard and because it is quite useful to have 
Holland neutral and a forbidden ground and water to the Armies and 
Navies of the Allies, a shield over the heart of Berlin and Germany. 
It would pay the Germans to have Holland with them and openly 
against the Allies, and they would no doubt gladly make an "agree- 
ment" to that effect; but there is little likelihood of that as long as the 
Dutch can visualize the "agreement" as clearly as the cartoonist has 
done here. 

There are many people who for years past have suspected Ger- 
many's sinister designs on the whole of the Netherlands. The brutal 
ravaging of Belgium, the talk that already runs, openly or in whispers, 
in Germany of "annexation of conquered territories" and "extended 
borders," tell plainly the same tale — that any agreement between a 
small country and Germany means merely the swallowing-up of the 
small nation, the "agreement" of a meal with the swallower-up. 

BOYD CABLE. 



124 







,. !-<'■- prnaefcers 



THE EAGLE IN THE HEN-RUN 

German Eagle : " Come along, Dutch chicken, we will easily arrange an agreement. 
The Chicken : " Yes, in your stomach." 

125 



The Future 



THERE can be no doubting of the future. The Allied forces, 
who in Raemaekers' drawing stand for Liberty, are assuredly 
destined to wring the neck of the Prussian eagle, which typifies 
the tyranny of brute force. 

"For freedom's battle, once begun . . . 
Though baffled oft, is ever won." 

"There is only one master in this country," the Kaiser has said of 
Germany. "I am he, and I will not tolerate another." He has also 
told his people: "There is only one law — my law; the law which I 
myself lay down." It is supererogatory to dispute either of these im- 
perial pronouncements. The Future contents herself with the com- 
ment: " Out of thine own mouth will I judge thee." 

The Kaiser and his counsellors have now translated words into 
deeds, and every instrument of savagery has been since August, 1914, 
enlisted by Tyranny in the attempt to overthrow Liberty. "A thou- 
sand years ago," the Kaiser once declared to his Army, "the Huns under 
their king Attila made themselves a name which still lives in tradition." 
The Future replies to him that he and his fighting hordes will also live 
in tradition. They will be remembered for their defiance of the con- 
science of the world, which obeys no call but that of Liberty. 

SIDNEY LEE. 



126 




L'AVENIR 



127 



Christ or Odin? 



YOU cannot well conceive a science, whether it be mathematics, or architecture, 
or philosophy, without its axioms, dogmas, or first principles. Without them 
there is no basis on which to raise the superstructure. So it is with the 
science of religion. Take Christianity: if it is to be taught scientifically, it must 
start with the most tremendous dogma, the Divinity of Christ. Either Christ was 
or He was not what He claimed to be. If He was not, you must shout with the 
Sanhedrim: " Crucify Him ! " If He was, you must sing with the Church : "Come, 
adore Him." One thing is certain, you cannot be indifferent to His claim or to Him; 
you must either hate Him and His creed, like the Prussian warring Superman, or 
love Him and it, like England's Crusading Kings. 

The cartoon before us is the finished picture which I can trace from its first rough 
sketch in the hands of Kant, through its different stages of development in the schools 
of Hegel, of Schopenhauer, of Strauss, till it was ready for its final touches in the 
hands of Nietzsche. In fancy I see it hung, on the line, in the Prussian picture- 
gallery under the direction of War Lords, whose boasted aim it is that the world shall 
be governed only by Prussian Kultur and Prussian Religion. 

The fatal mistake made by the Teutonic race in the past was, we are told, the 
adoption of Roman culture and Roman religion. Germany once submitted to an alien 
God and to an alien creed. She, the mistress of the earth, the mightiest of the mighty, 
and the most Kultured of the Kultured, had actually once worshipped "an uncultured 
peasant Galilean," and made profession of "His slave morality." 

Now they had altogether done with Christ, the Nazarene. The shout had 
gone forth: "We will not have this Man to rule over us." In the future no gods 
but Thor and Odin shall rule the "world-dominating race." Prussia seemed to 
think the world's need to-day was the religion not of Virtue, but of Valour. "In 
a day now long fled was heard the cry : ' Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit 
the earth,' but to-day there shall go forth the word: 'Blessed are the valiant, for 
they shall make the earth their throne.' In the past ye heard it said: 'Blessed 
are the poor in spirit,' but now I say to you: 'Blessed are the great in soul, for 
they shall enter into Valhalla.' Again, in the dark agesiit was said to you: 'Blessed 
are the peacemakers,' but now in the blaze of day I say unto you: 'Blessed are the 
war-makers, for they shall be called, if not the children of Jahve, the children of 
Odin, who is greater than Jahve.' " For those who want more of this mad jargon 
on the same lines let me refer them to the late Professor Cramb's book on Germany 
and England. 

With this cartoon before me, I am driven to fear that when the war is done 
there will rise up in Germany a louder and stronger cry against the Christianity 
of Christ than ever was attempted after the Franco-Prussian War. The "man of 
blood and iron," the man with the mailed fist and the iron heel, I much apprehend, 
will not be satisfied with tearing down the emblem of the physical Body of Christ, 
but to slake his bloodthirsty spirit he will want to go on to belabour His Mystical 
Body no less. God avert it! 

BERNARD VAUGHAN. 



128 




'I crush whatever resists me. 



129 



Ferdinand 



IN THIS war, where the ranks of the enemy present to us so many 
formidable, sinister, and shocking figures, there is one, and per- 
haps but one, which is purely ridiculous. If we had the heart to 
relieve our strained feelings by laughter, it would be at the gross Coburg 
traitor, with his bodyguard of assassins and his hidden coat-of-mail, 
his shaking hands and his painted face. The world has never seen a 
meaner scoundrel, and we may almost bring ourselves to pity the 
Kaiser, whom circumstances have forced to accept on equal terms a 
potentate so verminous. 

But we no longer smile, we are tempted rather to weep, when 
we think of the nation over whom this Ferdinand exercises his disas- 
trous authority. Forty years will have expired this spring since the 
Christian peasants of Bulgaria rose in arms against the Turkish op- 
pressor. After a year of wild mountain fighting, Russia, with fraternal 
devotion, came to their help, and at San Stefano in March, 1877, the 
aspirations of Bulgaria were satisfied under Russia auspices. Ten years 
later Ferdinand the usurper descended upon Sofia, shielded by the 
protection of Austria, and since then, under his poisonous rule, the 
honour and spirit of the once passionate and romantic Bulgarian nation 
have faded like a plant in poison-fumes. 

Raemaekers presents the odious Ferdinand to us in the act of 
starting for the wars — he who faints at the sight of a drawn sword. 
His hired assassins guard him from his own people and from the 
revenge of the thousands whom he has injured. But will they always 
be able to secure so vile a life against the vengeance of history? How 
soon will Fate condescend to crush this painted creature? 

EDMUND GOSSE. 



130 




Ferdinand s'en va t'en guerre ne sait s'il reviendra. (Old French song adapted.) 



131 



Juggernaut 



YES, Kultur, the German Juggernaut, has passed this way. 
There is no mistaking the foul track of his chariot-wheels. 
Kultur is the German God. But there is a greater God still. 
He sees it all. He speaks, — 

"Was it for this I died? — 

— Black clouds of smoke that veil the sight of heaven; 
Black piles of stones which yesterday were homes; 
And raw black heaps which once were villages ; 
Fair towns in ashes, spoiled to suage thy spleen ; 
My temples desecrate, My priests out-cast: — 
Black ruin everywhere, and red, — a land 
All swamped with blood, and savaged raw and bare; 
All sickened with the reek and stench of war, 
And flung a prey to pestilence and want; 

— Thy work ! 

"For this? — 

— Life's fair white flower of manhood in the dust; 

Ten thousand thousand hearts made desolate; 

My troubled world a seething pit of hate; 

My helpless ones the victims of thy lust; — 

The broken maids lift hopeless eyes to Me, 

The little ones lift handless arms to Me, 

The tortured women lift white lips to Me, 

The eyes of murdered white-haired sires and dames 

Stare up at Me. And the sad anguished eyes 

Of My dumb beasts in agony. 

— Thy work!" 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



132 




KL'LTL'R HAS PASSED HERE 



133 



Michael and the Marks 

THE Loan: good for 100 marks!" Look at him! He is the 
favoured of the Earth, lives in Germany, where Kultur is peer- 
less, and education complete (even tho' the man may become a 
martyr of method). War comes! and he is seen, as an almond tree in 
blossom his years tell, when lo! a War Loan is raised with real Helf- 
ferichian candour, and Michael has just stepped out of the Darlehns- 
kasse, at Oberwesel-on-the-Rhine, or other seat of Kultur and War Loan 
finance. Are visions about? said an American humorist now gone to 
the Shades ; and Michael, Loan note in hand, eyes reversed, after a visit 
to two or three offices, wants to know, and wonders whether this note 
can be regarded as "hab und gut," and if so, good for how much? 
Is it a wonder that an artist in a Neutral Country should depict Ger- 
man affairs as in this condition, and business done in this manner? 
Michael is puzzled; and in the language of the Old Kent Road, " 'e 
dunno where 'e are!" He is puzzled, and not without cause. 

All who have followed Germany's financing of the War share 
Michael's perplexity. Brag is a good dog: but it does not do as a 
foundation for credit. Gold at Spandau was trumpeted for years as a 
"war chest"; but when the "best laid schemes o' mice and men gang 
aft agley," especially when a war does not end, as it should, after a jolly 
march to Paris in six weeks, through a violated and plundered Belgium, 
then comes the rub — and the paper which puzzles Michael. A German, 
possibly Dr. Helfferich, the German Finance Minister, may believe, 
and some do believe, that it does not matter how much "paper," in 
currency notes, a State, or even a Bank, may issue. The more experi- 
enced commercial and banking concerns of the world insist upon a 
visible material, as well as the personal security, to which the German 
is prone. The round-about method of issuing German War Loans un- 
questionably puzzles Michael; but will not impose on the world outside- 
Let it be marked also, that German credit methods have been, 
in part, the proximate cause of this War; a system of credit-trading 
may last for some years only to threaten disaster and general ruin. 
Now, it is "neck or nothing"; Michael goes the round of the Loan 
offices, and behold him! Germany herself fears a crash in credit, 
and even the German Michael feels that it is impending. Already 
the mark exchanges over 30 below par. 

W. M. J. WILLIAMS. 



134 




LOAN JUGGLERY 
Michael: "For my ioo marks I obtained a receipt. I gave this for a second ioo marks 
and I received a second receipt. For the third loan I gave the second receipt. Have I 
invested 300 marks and has the Government got 300, or have both of us got nothing? " 

135 



/ 



Their Beresina 

S IT still a long way to the Beresina?"'' 
The whole civilized world sincerely hopes not. 



Death, with the grin on his fleshless face, is hurrying them along 
to it as fast as his troika can go. Three black horses abreast he drives — 
Dishonour, Disappointment, and Disgrace — and the more audacious 
of the carrion-crows fly croaking ominously alongside. 

Little Willie, with the insignia of his family's doom on his head, is 
not happy in his mind. "Father's" plans have not worked smoothly, 
his promises have not been fulfilled. Little Willie is concerned for his 
own future. He is the only soul in the world who is. 

When the First — the real — Napoleon entered Russia, on June 24, 
1812, he led an army of 414,000 men — the grande armee. When the 
great retreat began from burnt-out Moscow he had less than 100,000. 
By the time the Beresina was reached but little of the grand army was 
left. " Of the cavalry reserve, formerly 32,000 men, only 100 answered 
the muster-roll." The passage of the river, which was to interpose 
its barrier between him and the pursuing Russians, was an inferno of 
panic, selfishness, and utter demoralization. Finally, to secure his 
own safety, Napoleon had the bridges burnt before half his men had 
crossed. The roll-call that night totalled 8,000 gaunt spectres, hardly 
to be called men. 

"Father, is it still a long way to the Beresina?" 

We may surely and rightly put up that question as a prayer to the 
God whom Kaiser William claims as friend, but whom he has flouted 
and bruised as never mortal man since time began has bruised and 
flouted friend before. 

"7s it still a long way to the Beresina?" 

God grant them a short quick course, an end forever to militarism, 
to the wastage it has entailed, and to all those evils which have made 
such things possible in this year of grace 1916. 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



136 




'Father, is it still a long way to the Beresina? " 



137 



New Peace Offers 

THE present policy of Germany is a curious mixture of underhand 
diplomacy and boastful threats. If she desires to impress the 
neutral States, she vaunts the great conquests that she has 
been able to accomplish. She points out, especially to Roumania and 
to Greece, how terrible is her vengeance on States which defy her, such 
as Belgium and Serbia, while vague promises are given to her Near- 
Eastern Allies — Bulgaria and Turkey — that they will have large ad- 
ditions to their territory as a reward for compliance with the dictates 
of Berlin. 

But, on the other hand, it is very clear that, as part and parcel of 
this vigorous offensive, Germany is already in more quarters than one 
suggesting that she is quite open to offers of peace. As every one 
knows, Von Biilow in Switzerland is the head and controlling agent of a 
great movement in the direction of peace; while lately we have heard of 
offers made to Belgium that if she will acknowledge a commercial 
dependence on the Central Empires her territory will be restored to 
her. Similar movements are going on in America, because throughout 
Germany still seeks to pose as a nation which was attacked and had 
to defend herself, and is therefore quite ready to listen if any reasonable 
offers come from her enemies to bring the war to a close. 

The unhappy German Imperial Chancellor has to play his part in 
this sorry comedy with such skill as he can manage. To his German 
countrymen he has to proclaim that the war has been one brilliant prog- 
ress from the start to the present time. This must be done in order 
to allay the apprehensions of Berlin and to propitiate the ever-increas- 
ing demand for more plentiful supplies of food. Secretly he has to 
work quite as hard to secure for the Central Empires such a conclusion 
of hostilities as will leave them masters of Europe. And, without 
doubt, he has to put up with a good many indignities in the process. 
"The worst of it is, I must always deny having been there." Kicked 
out by the Allies, he has to pretend that no advances were ever made. 
Perhaps, however, such a task is not uncongenial to the man who began 
by asserting that solemnly ratified treaties were only "scraps of paper." 

W. L. COURTNEY. 



138 




M'l I 



1 K ^ VpMLi. 1 ;; 





- MP __ iyi^-^<r k^rvsf 

NEW PEACE OFFERS 
Von Bethmann-Hollweg: 'The worst of it is, I mu st always deny having been there." 



139 



The Shields ofRosselaere 

THE climax of meanness and selfishness would seem to be reached 
when an armed man shelters himself behind the unarmed; yet 
it is not the climax, for here the artist depicts a body of German 
troops sheltering themselves behind women, calculating that the Bel- 
gians will not fire on their own countrywomen and unarmed friends, and 
that so the attack may safely gain an advantage. 

There is a studied contrast between the calm, orderly march of the 
troops with shouldered arms and the huddled, disorderly progress to 
which the townspeople are compelled. These are not marching: they 
are going to their death. Several of the women have their hands raised 
in frantic anguish, their eyes are like the eyes of insanity, and one at 
least has her mouth open to emit a shriek of terror. Two of the men 
are in even worse condition; they are collapsing, one forward, one 
backward, with outstretched hands as if grasping at help. The rest 
march on, courageously or stolidly. Some seem hardly to understand, 
some understand and accept their fate with calm resignation. 

One old woman walks quietly with bowed head submissive. In 

the front walks a priest, his hand raised in the gesture of blessing his 

flock. The heroism of the Catholic priesthood both in France and in 

Belgium forms one of the most honourable features of the Great War, 

and stands in striking contrast with the calculating diplomatic policy 

of the Papacy. There is always the same tendency in the "chief 

priests" of every race and period to be tempted to sacrifice moral 

considerations to expediency, and to prefer the empty fabric of an 

imposing Church establishment to the people who make the Church. 

But the clergy of Belgium are there to prove what the Church can do 

for mankind. This cartoon would be incomplete and would deserve 

condemnation as inartistic if it were not redeemed by the priest and 

the old woman. 

WILLIAM MITCHELL RAMSAY. 



140 




THE SHIELDS OF ROSSELAERE 
At Rosselaere the German troops forced the Belgian townsfolk to march in front 
of them. 

141 



The Obstinacy of Nicholas 

THE venerable quip that what is firmness in ourselves is obstinacy 
in our opponents is illustrated with a ludicrous explicitness in 
the whole tenor of German official utterance since the failure 
of the great drives. The obtuseness of the Allies is so abysmal (it is 
again and again complained in the Reichstag and through Wolff) 
that they are unable to see that Germany is the permanently triumph- 
ant victor. Whereas for Germany, whose cause even the neutrals 
judge to be lost, to hold out at the cost of untold blood and treasure 
is merely the manifestation of heaven-conferred German steadfast- 
ness. The Army into whose obstinate corporate head it is hardest to 
drive the idea of German military all-powerfulness is the Russian, of 
which retreating units, actually armed with staves against a superbly 
equipped (but innocent and wantonly attacked) foe, were so stupid as 
to forget how to be broken and demoralized. 

And this long, imperturbable, verdamte Nicholas, who was declared 
on the highest German authority (and what higher?) to be annihilated 
twice, having turned a smashing tactical defeat into strategical victory, 
bobs up serenely in another and most inconvenient place. Absurd; 
particularly when "what I tell you three times is true." . . . 
Neonapoleon didn't remember Moscow. But he will. 

JOSEPH THORP. 



142 




-• 



_-A 




• ' " $ 







"~— lou,s f\ ci6fi>cie|^ i'.i.. 



"Why, I've killed you twice, and you dare to come back again.' 



143 



The Order of Merit 

TURKEY had no illusions from the beginning on the subject of 
the war. If the choice had been left to the nation she would not 
have become Germany's catspaw. Unfortunately for Turkey, 
she has had no choice. For years upon years the Sultan Abdul Hamid 
was Turkey. Opposition to his will meant death for his opponent. 
Thus Turkey became inarticulate. Her voice was struck dumb. The 
revolution was looked upon hopefully as the dawn of a new era. Abdul 
Hamid was dethroned; his brother, a puppet, was exalted, anointed, 
and enthroned. Power passed from the Crown, not, as expected, to 
the people and its representatives, but into the hands of a youthful 
adventurer, in German pay, who has led his country from one folly to 
another. 

Turkey did not want to fight, but she had no choice, and so 
she was dragged in by the heels. She has lost much besides her in- 
dependence. The crafty German has drained her of supplies while 
giving naught in return. The German's policy is to strive throughout 
for a weak Turkey. The weaker Turkey can be made, the better will it 
be for Germany, which hopes still, no matter what may happen else- 
where, so to manipulate things as to dominate the Ottoman Empire 
after the war. 

Turkey is still a rich country, in spite of her enormous sacri- 
fices in the past decade. She has been exploited from end to end 
by the German adventurer, who will continue the process of bleeding 
so long as there is safety in the method; but Turkey is beginning to 
ask herself, as does the figure of the fat Pasha in the cartoon: "And is 
this all the compensation I get?" An Iron Cross does not pay for the 
loss of half a million good soldiers. Yet that is the exact measure of 
Turkey's reward. 

RALPH D. BLUMENFELD. 



144 




THE ORDER OF MERIT 
Turkey: "And is this all the compensation I get?" 



145 



The Marshes ofPinsk 

IN WHAT are we most like our kinsmen the Germans, and in what 
most unlike? I was convicted of Teutonism when first, in Ger- 
many, I ate "brod und butter," and found the words pronounced 
in an English way, slurred. But if we are like the Germans in the names 
of simple and childish things, we grow more unlike them, we draw 
farther apart from them, as we grow up. We love war less and less, 
as they love it more. We love our word of honour more and more as 
they, for the love of war, love their word less. 

There is no nation in the world more unlike us; because there is no 
war so perfect, so conscious, so complete as the German. And being 
thus all-predominant, German war is the greatest of outrages on life 
and death. We English have a singular degree of respect for the 
dead. It has no doubt expressed itself in some slight follies and 
vulgarities, such as certain funeral customs, not long gone by; but 
such respect is a national virtue and emotion. No nation loving 
war harbours that virtue. And in nothing do the kinsmen with 
whom we have much language in common differ from us more than 
in the policy that brought this Prussian host to cumber the stagnant 
waters of the Marshes of Pinsk. 

The love of war has cast them there, displayed, profaned, in the 
"cold obstruction" of their dissolution. Corruption '. is not sensible 
corruption when it is a secret in earth where no eye, no hand, no breath- 
ing can be aware of it. There is no offence in the grave. But the lover 
of war, the Power that loved war so much as to break its oath for the 
love of war, and for the love of war to strike aside the hand of the 
peace-maker, Arbitration, that Power has chosen thus to expose and 
to betray the multitude of the dead. 

ALICE MEYNELL. 



146 




2==-© 



THE MARSHES OF P1NSK, NOVEMBER, 1915- 
The Kaiser said last spring: "When the leaves fall you'll have peace." They have! 



147 



God With Us 



THREE apaches sit crouched in shelter waiting the moment to 
strike. One is old and gaga, his ancient fingers splayed on the 
ground to support him and his face puckered with the petulance 
of age. One is a soft shapeless figure — clearly with small heart for the 
business, for he squats there as limp as a sack. One is the true stage 
conspirator with a long pendulous nose and narrow eyes. His knife 
is in his teeth, and he would clearly like to keep it there, for he has 
no stomach for a fight. He will only strike if he can get in a secret 
blow. The leader of the gang has the furtive air of the criminal, 
his chin sunk on his breast, and his cap slouched over his brows. His 
right hand holds a stiletto, his pockets bulge with weapons or plunder, 
his left hand is raised with the air of a priest encouraging his flock. 
And his words are the words of religion — "God with us." At the sign 
the motley crew will get to work. 

It is wholesome to strip the wrappings from grandiose things. 
Public crimes are no less crimes because they are committed to the 
sound of trumpets, and the chicanery of crowned intriguers is morally 
the same as the tricks of hedge bandits. It is privilege of genius to get 
down to fundamentals. Behind the stately speech of international 
pourparlers and the rhetoric of national appeals burn the old lust and 
greed and rapine. A stab in the dark is still a stab in the dark though 
courts and councils are the miscreants. A war of aggression is not less 
brigandage because the armies march to proud songs and summon 
the Almighty to their aid. 

Raemaekers has done much to clear the eyes of humanity. The 
monarch of Felix Austria, with the mantle of the Holy Roman Empire 
still dragging from his shoulders, is no more than a puzzled, broken 
old man, crowded in this bad business beside the Grand Turk, against 
whom his fathers defended Europe. The preposterous Ferdinand, 
shorn of his bombast, is only a chicken-hearted assassin. The leader 
of the band, the All Highest himself, when stripped of his white cloak 
and silver helmet, shows the slouch and the furtive ferocity of the street- 
corner bravo. And the cry "God with us," which once rallied Cru- 
sades, has become on such lips the signal of the apache. 

JOHN BUCHAN. 



148 





GOD WITH US 
'At the command 'Gott mit uns' you will go for them. 



149 



Ferdinand the Chameleon 

THERE is one whole field of the evil international influence of 
Germany in which Ferdinand of Bulgaria is a much more im- 
portant and symbolic person than William of Prussia. He is, 
of course, a cynical cosmopolitan. He is in great part a Jew, and an 
advanced type of that mauvais juif who is the principal obstacle to all 
the attempts of the more genuine and honest Jews to erect a rational 
status for their people. 

Like almost every man of this type, he is a Jingo without being 
a patriot. That is to say, he is of the type that believes in big arma- 
ments and in a diplomacy even more brutal than armaments; but the 
militarism and diplomacy are not humanized either by the ancient 
national sanctities which surround the Czar of Russia, or the spontane- 
ous national popularity which established the King of Serbia. He is 
not national, but international; and even in his peaceful activities 
has been not so much a neutral as a spy. 

In the accompanying cartoon the Dutch caricaturist has thrust 
with his pencil at the central point of this falsity. It is something 
which is probably the central point of everything everywhere, but is 
especially the central point of everything connected with the deep 
quarrels of Eastern Europe. It is religion. Russian Orthodoxy is 
an enormously genuine thing; Austrian Romanism is a genuine thing; 
Islam is a genuine thing; Israel, for that matter, is also a genuine thing. 

But Ferdinand of Bulgaria is not a genuine thing; and he represents 
the whole part played by Prussia in these ancient disputes. That 
part is the very reverse of genuine; it is a piece of ludicrous and trans- 
parent humbug. If Prussia had any religion, it would be a northern 
perversion of Protestantism utterly distant from and indifferent to 
the controversies of Slavonic Catholics. But Prussia has no religion. 
For her there is no God; and Ferdinand is his prophet. 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



150 




FERDINAND THE CHAMELEON 
"I was a Catholic, but, needing Russian help, I became a Greek Orthodox. Now 
I need the Austrians, I again become Catholic. Should things turn out badly, 1 can 
again revert to Greek Orthodoxy." 

151 



The Latin Sisters 

THE Latin Sisters! Note carefully the expression of France as 
contrasted with that of Italy. France, violated by the Hun, 
exhibits grim determination made sacrosanct by suffering. 
Italy's face glows with enthusiasm. One can conceive of the one fight- 
ing on to avenge her martyrs, steadfast to the inevitable end when Right 
triumphs over Might. One can conceive of the other drawing her 
sword because of the blood tie which links them together in a bond that 
craft and specious lies have tried in vain to sunder. What do they 
stand for, these two noble sisters? Everything which can be included 
in the word — ART. Everything which has built up, stone upon stone, 
the stately temple of Civilization, everything which has served to 
humanize mankind and to differentiate him from the beasts of Prussia. 

Looking at these two sisters, one wonders that there are still to be 
found in England mothers who allow their children to be taught Ger- 
man. One hazards the conjecture that it might well be imparted to 
exceptionally wicked children, if there be any, because none can ques- 
tion that the Teutonic tongue will be spoken almost exclusively in the 
nethermost deeps of Hades until, and probably after, the Day of 
Judgment. 

For my sins I studied German in Germany, and I rejoice to think 
that I have forgotten nearly every word of that raucous and obscene 
language. Had I a child to educate, and the choice between German 
and Choctaw were forced upon me, I should not select German. French, 
Italian, and Spanish, cognate tongues, easy to learn, delightful to speak, 
hold out sweet allurements to English children. Do not these suffice? 
If any mother who happens to read these lines is considering the pro- 
priety of teaching German to a daughter, let her weigh well the re- 
sponsibility which she is deliberately assuming. To master any foreign 
language, it is necessary to talk much and often with the natives. Do 
Englishwomen wish to talk with any Huns after this war? What will 
be the feeling of an English mother whose daughter marries a Hun 
any time within the next twenty years? And such a mother will 
know that she planted the seed which ripened into catastrophe when 
she permitted her child to acquire the language of our detestable and 
detested enemies. 

HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL. 



152 







THE LATIN SISTERS 
Italy: "Indeed she is my sister." 



153 



Misunderstood 



IT NEED not necessarily be supposed that the directors of German 
destiny, who are not devoid of intelligence, took the ravings of 
Bernhardi over-seriously. He had his special uses no doubt before 
the day. But on the morrow of the day, when questions of responsi- 
bility came to be raised, he became one of many inconvenient witnesses; 
and there has scarcely been a better joke among the grim humours of 
this catastrophe than the mission of this Bedhot-Gospeller of the New 
Unchivalry of War to explain to "those idiotic Yankees" that he was 
really an ardent pacifist. The most just, the most brilliant, the most 
bitter pamphlet of invective could surely not say so much as this 
reeking cleaver, those bloody hands, that fatuous leer and gesture, this 
rigid victim. Bernhardism was not a mere windy theory. It was 
exactly practised on the Belgian people. 

And this spare, dignified figure of Uncle Sam, contemptuously in- 
credulous, is, I make bold to say, a more representative symbol of the 
American people than one which our impatience sometimes tempts 
us now to draw. Most Americans now regret, as Pope Benedict must 
regret, that the first most cruel rape of Belgium was allowed to pass 
without formal protest in the name of civilization. But that occasion 
gone, none other, not the Lusitania even, showed so clear an oppor- 
tunity. A people's sentiments are not necessarily expressed by the 
action of its Government, which moves always in fetters. Nor has 
President Wilson's task been as simple as his critics on this or the other 
side of the Atlantic profess to believe. 

JOSEPH THOBP. 



154 




MISUNDERSTOOD 
Bernhardt "Indeed I am the most humane fellow in the world. 



155 



Prosperity Reigns in Flanders 

WHEREVER Prussia rules she has only one method of ruling — 
that of terror. Wherever she finds civilization and the wealth 
which civilization creates, she can do nothing but despoil. 
She is as incapable of persuasion as of creation. No people forced to 
endure her rule have ever been won to prefer it as the Alsatians came to 
prefer the rule of France or as many Indians have come to prefer the rule 
of England. In Belgium she has been especially herself in this respect. 

A wise policy would have dictated such a careful respect for private 
rights and such a deference to native traditions as might conceivably 
have weakened the determination of the Belgians to resist to the death 
those who had violated their national independence. But Prussia is 
incapable of such a policy. In any territory which she occupies, whe- 
ther temporarily or permanently, her only method is terror and her only 
aim loot. She did indeed send some of her tame Socialists to Brussels 
to embark on the hopeless enterprise of persuading the Belgian Socialists 
that honour and patriotism were ideologies bourgeoises and that the 
"economic interests" of Belgium would be best promoted by a sub- 
mission. These pedantic barbarians got the answer which they de- 
served; but on their pettifogging thesis Raemaekers' cartoon is perhaps 
the best commentary. 

The "prosperity" of Belgium under Prussian rule has consisted in 
the systematic looting, in violation of international law, of the wealth 
accumulated by the free citizens of Belgium, for the advantage of their 
Prussian rulers; while to the mass of the people it has brought and, 
until it is forever destroyed, can bring nothing but that slavery which 
the Prussians have themselves accepted and which they would now 
impose upon the whole civilization of Europe. 

CECIL CHESTERTON. 



156 




PROSPERITY REIGNS IN FLANDERS 

Four hundred and eighty millions of francs have been imposed as a war tax, but 
soup is given gratis. 



157 



The Last Hohenzollern 

BEHIND him stands the embodiment of all that Prussian kultur 
and efficiency mean, wooden uninventiveness, clockwork ac- 
curacy of movement — without soul or inspiration. He himself 
is thin and scraggy — Raemaekers has intensified these characteristics, 
but even so the caricature of the reality is more accurate than unkind. 
Many months ago, this vacuous heir of the house of Hohenzollern set 
to work on the task of overcoming France, and the result. . . . 
may be found in bundles of four, going back to the incinerators beyond 
Aix, in the piled corpses before the French positions at and about 
Verdun; some of the results, the swag of the decadent burglar, went 
back in sacks from the chateaux that this despicable thing polluted 
and robbed as might any Sikes from Portland or Pentonville. 

He is the embodiment, himself, of the last phase of Prussian kultur. 
Somewhere back in the history of Prussia its rulers had to invent and 
to create, and then kultur brought forth hard men; later, it became 
possible to copy, and then kultur brought forth mechanical perfection 
rather than creative perfection, systematized its theories of life and 
work, and brought into being a class of men just a little meaner, more 
rigid, more automaton-like, than the original class; having reduced 
life to one system, and that without soul or ideal, kultur brought forth 
types lacking more and more in originality. Here stands the culmi- 
nating type; he will copy the good German Gott — he is incapable of 
originating anything — and will "do the same to France." 

As far as lies in his power, he has done it ; in the day of reckoning, 
Germany will judge how he has done it, and it is to be hoped that 
Germany will give him his just reward, for no punishment could be more 
fitting. The rest of the world already knows his vacuity, his utter 
uselessness, his criminal decadence. As his father was stripped of the 
Garter, so is he here shown stripped of the attributes to which, in 
earlier days, he made false claim. There remains a foolish knave 
posturing — and that is the real Crown Prince of Germany. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



158 







~ * 


( 1 




1 


' y 


c?^ 





GOTT STRAFE ENGLAND! 
'Father says I have to do the same with France." 



159 



Piracy 



IN THE summer of 1914 Germany stood before the world, a nation 
of immense, and to a great extent of most honourable, achievement. 
Her military greatness had never been in dispute. But in the 
previous twenty years she had developed an internal industry and an 
external commerce on a scale and with a rapidity entirely unprecedented. 
She had to build a navy such as no nation had ever constructed in so 
short a time. She seemed destined to progress in the immediate future 
as she had progressed in the immediate past. 

What has the madness for world conquest done for her now? She 
has made enemies of all, and made all her enemies suffer. Like the 
strong blind man of history, she has seized the columns of civilization 
and brought the whole temple down. But has she not destroyed her- 
self utterly amid the ruins? Her industry is paralyzed, her commerce 
gone. Her navy is dishonoured. Some force she still possesses at 
sea, but it is force to be expended on sea piracy alone. And it is not 
piracy that can save her. At most, in her extremity, it will do for her 
what a life belt does for a lone figure in a deserted ocean. It prolongs 
the agony that precedes inevitable extinction. It is the throw of the 
desperate gambler that Germany has made, when she flings this last 
vestige of her honour into the sea. 

ARTHUR POLLEN. 



160 





TIRPITZ'S LAST HOPE— PIRACY 



161 



"Weeping, She Hath Wept" 

WHILE a world' of mourners is plaintively asking, "What has 
become of our brave dead, where are they? Alas! how dark 
is the world without them, how silent the home, how sad the 
heart"; whilst the mourner is groping like the blind woman for her lost 
treasure, the Belgian mother, and the Belgian widow, and the Belgian 
orphan are on their knees, praying, "Eternal rest give to them, Lord; 
let a perpetual light shine upon them," the Christian plea that has 
echoed down the ages from the day of the Maccabees till now, exhort- 
ing us to pray for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins. 
I would remind the broken-hearted mother beseeching me to tell 
her where can her brave boy be gone, adding, "His was such a lonely 
journey; did he find his way to God?" of the words of the poet, who 
finds his answer to her question in the flight of a- sea bird sailing sun- 
ward from the winter snows: 

There is a Power whose care 

Teaches thy way along the pathless coast, 

The desert and illimitable air, 

Lone, wandering but not lost : 

He who from zone to zone 

Guides, through the boundless sky, thy certain flight, 
In the lone way which thou must tread alone 
Will lead thy steps aright. 

The brave soldier, who in the discharge of high duty has been 
suddenly shot into eternity by the fire of the enemy, will surely, far more 
easily than the migrating bird, wing his flight to God, Who, let us pray, 
will not long withhold him the happy-making vision of Heaven. Pil- 
grims homeward-bound, as you readily understand, at different stages 
of their journey will picture Heaven to themselves differently, accord- 
ing as light or darkness, joy or sorrow encompass them. Some will 
picture Heaven as the Everlasting Holiday after the drudgery of school 
life, others as Eternal Happiness after a life of suffering and sorrow, 
others again as Home after exile, and some others as never-ending 
Rapture in the sight of God. 

But to-day, when " f rightfulness " is the creed of the enemy, and 
warfare with atrocities is his gospel, very many amongst us, weary 
with the long-drawn battle, sick with its ever-recurring horrors, and 
broken by its ghastly revelations, will lift up their eyes to a land beyond 
the stars. 

FATHER BERNARD VAUGHAN. 



162 




THE WIDOWS OF BELGIUM 



163 



Military Necessity 

IT MAY be asserted that the plea of "Frightfulness" will not be 
recognized a "military necessity" when Germany is judged, and 
that this enemy of civilization, even as the enemy of society, will 
be held responsible for its crimes, though they stand as far above the 
imagination as beyond the power of a common felon. Bill Sikes may 
justly claim "military necessity" for his thefts and murders, if Ger- 
many can do so for hers. 

Under Article No. 46 of the Regulations of The Hague, we learn 
that "Family honour and rights, individual life and private property 
must be respected," and, under Article No 47, "all pillage is expressly 
forbidden." But while it was a political necessity to subscribe to that 
fundamental formula of civilization, Germany's heart recognized no 
real need to do so, and secretly, in cold blood, at the inspiration of her 
educated and well-born rulers, she plotted the details of a campaign 
of murder, rape, arson, and pillage, which demanded the breaking of 
her oath as its preliminary. Well might her Chancellor laugh at "the 
scrap of paper," which stood between Germany and Belgium, when he 
reflected on the long list of sacred assurances his perjured country had 
already planned to break. 

No viler series of events, in Northern France alone, can be cited 
than those extracted from the note-books of captured and fallen 
Germans. Such blood-stained pages must be a tithe of those that 
returned to Germany, but they furnish a full story of what the rank 
and file accomplished at the instigation and example of their officers. 
Space precludes quotation; but one may refer the reader to "Ger- 
many's Violations of the Laws of War,"* published under the auspices 
of the French Foreign Office. It is a book that should be on the tables 
at the Peace Conference. 

We cannot hang an army for these unspeakable offences, or treat 
those who burn a village of living beings as we would treat one who 
made a bonfire of his fellow-man; nor can we condemn to penal servitude 
a whole nation for bestial outrages on humanity, ordered by its Higher 
Command and executed by its troops; but at least we may hope soon 
to find the offending Empire under police supervision of Europe, with a 
ticket-of-leave, whose conditions shall be as strict as an outraged 
earth knows how to draw them. 

EDEN PHILLPOTTS. 

*Enelish translation. Heinemann. 



164 




z?r% 



ON TICKET-OF-LEAVE 
Convict: "The next time I'll wear a German helmet and plead 'military necessity. 



165 



Liberte! Liberte, Cherie! 

THERE have been many surprises in this war. The evil sur- 
prises, patiently, scientifically, diabolically matured in the dark 
for the upsetting and downcasting of a too-trusting world by 
the enemy of mankind, whose "Teuton-faith" will surely forever out- 
rival that "Punic-faith" which has hitherto been the by-word for 
perfidious treachery. The heartening surprises of gallant little Belgium 
and Serbia; the renascence of Russia; the wonderful upleap to the needs 
of the times by Great, and still more by Greater Britain; and, not least, 
the bracing of the loins of our closest Allies just across the water. 

In the very beginning, when the Huns tore up that scrap of paper 
which represented their honour and their right to a place among decent 
dwellers on the earth, and came sweeping like a dirty flood over Belgium 
and Northern France, the overpowering remembrance of 1870 still lay 
heavy on our sorely-tried neighbours. They had not yet quite found 
themselves. The Huns had a mighty reputation for invincibility. 
It seemed impossible to stand against them. There were waverings, 
even crumplings. There were said to be treacheries in high places. 

The black flood swept on. Von Kluck was heading for Paris, and 
seemed likely to get there. Then suddenly, miraculously as it seemed, 
his course was diverted. He was tossed aside and flung back. 

And it is good to recall the reason he himself is said to have given 
for his failure. 

"At Mons the British taught the French how to die." 

That is a great saying and worthy of preservation for all time. 
Whether Yon Kluck said it or not does not matter. It represents and 
immortalizes a mighty fact. 

France was bending under the terrible impact. Britain stood and 
died. France braced her loins and they have been splendidly braced 
ever since. 

The Huns were found to be resistible, vulnerable, breakable. The 
old verve and elan came back with all the old fire, and along with 
these, new depths of grim courage and tenacity, and, we are told, of 
spirituality, which may be the making of a new France greater than the 
world has ever known. 

And that we shall welcome. France, Belgium, Serbia, Russia have 
suffered in ways we but faintly comprehend on this side of the water. 
When the Great Settling Day comes, this new higher spirit of France 
will, it is to be devoutly hoped, make for restraint in the universal 
craving for vengeance, and prove a weighty factor in the righteous 
re-adjustment of things and the proper fitting together of the jig-saw 
map of Europe. 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



166 




LIBERIE! L1BERTE, CHERIE! 



167 



I — ™A Knavish Piece of Work" 

THERE can be no defence of the spirit of hatred in which the 
Germans have, so fatally for their future, carried on this amaz- 
ing mad war of theirs, in violation of all human instincts of 
self-respect and self-preservation, to say nothing of the obligations of 
religion and morality observed among mankind from the first dawnings 
of civilization. The knavery, the villainy, and the besotted bestiality 
of it can never be forgotten, and must never be forgiven, and Louis 
Raemaekers, gifted as he is with the rare dramatic genius that dis- 
criminates his Cartoons, has but discharged an obvious patriotic duty 
in publishing them to the world at large, as true and faithful witnesses 
to the unspeakable and inexpiable abominations wrought throughout 
Belgium and French Flanders by the Germans — which, already, in the 
course of Divine retribution, have involved their own country in mate- 
rial losses it will take from three to four generations to repair; and their 
once honoured name in contempt, and reprobation, and infamy, where- 
from it can never be redeemed. 

Nevertheless, as an Englishman, I shrink from giving any emphasis 
there may be in my "hand and signature" to these righteously con- 
demnatory and withering cartoons; and because, each one of them, 
as I turn to it, brings more and more crushingly home to me the tran- 
scending sin of England — of every individual Englishman with a vote 
for Members of Parliament — in not having prepared for this war; a sin 
that has implicated us in the destruction of the whole rising generation 
of the flower of our manhood ; and, before this date, would have brought 
us under subjection to Germany but for the confidence placed by the 
rank and file of the British people and nation in Lord Kitchener of 
Khartum. 

N ow — f ace to face with enemies — from the Kaiser downward to his 
humblest subjects — animated by the highest, noblest ideals, but again 
perverted for a time — as in the case of their ancestors in the Middle 
Ages — by a secular epidemic of "Panmania," they are to be faced not 
with idle reproaches and revilings, still less with undignified taunts 
and gibes, but with close-drawn lips and clenched teeth, in the deter- 
mination that, once having cast Satan out of them, he shall be bound 
down to keep the peace of Christendom — "for a thousand years." 

GEORGE BIRDWOOD. 



168 




WE'LL GIVE YOU THE TITLE OF MPRET OF POLAND 

The new Governor has had the title of Mpret given to him, the same that was given 
to the ill-starred Prince of Wied when made ruler of Albania in 1914. 



169 



II — "Sisyphus, — His Stone 



•>•> 



SISYPHUS, as the story goes, was a King who widely extended 
the commerce, and largely increased the wealth, of Corinth, but 
by avaricious and fraudful ways; for the sin whereof he was 
sentenced after death to the unresting labour of rolling up a hill in 
Tartarus, a huge unhewn block of stone, which so soon as he gets it to 
the hill top, for all his efforts, rolls down again. In classical representa- 
tion of the scene he is associated with Tantalus and Ixion; Tantalus, 
who, presuming too much on his relations with Zeus, was after death 
afflicted with an unquenchable thirst amidst flowing fountains and pel- 
lucid lakes — like the lakes of "The Thirst of the Antelope" in the 
marvellous mirages of Rajputana and Mesopotamia — that ever elude 
his anguished approaches; and with Ixion, the meanest and basest of 
cheats, and most demoniac of murderers, whose posthumous punishment 
was in being stretched, and broken, and bound, in the figure of the 
svastika, on a wheel which, self-moved — like the wheels of the vision of 
Ezekiel — whirls forevermore round and round the abyss of the nether 
world. The moral of these tortures is that we may well and most 
wisely leave vengeance to "the high Gods." They will repay! 

GEORGE BIRDWOOD. 



170 




SISYPHUS 



171 



Concrete Foundations 

NOTHING has damned the Germans more in the eyes of other 
nations, belligerent and neutral alike, and nothing will have a 
more subtle and lasting influence on future relations, than the 
revelation of stealthy preparation for conquest under a mask of in- 
nocent and friendly intercourse. The whole process of "peaceful 
penetration," pursued in a thousand ways with infernal ingenuity and 
relentless determination, is an exhibition of systematic treachery such 
as all the Macchiavellis have never conceived. Germany has revealed 
herself as a nation of spies and assassins. To take advantage of a neigh- 
bour's unsuspecting hospitality, to enter his house with an air of open 
friendship, in order to stab him in the back at a convenient moment, 
is an act of the basest treachery, denounced by all mankind in all ages. 
No one would be more shocked by it in private life than the Germans 
themselves. But when it is undertaken methodically on a national 
scale under the influence of Deutschland tiber Alles, the same conduct 
becomes ennobled in their eyes, they throw themselves into it with 
enthusiasm and lose all sense of honour. Such is the moral perversion 
worked by Kultur and the German theory of the State. . 

An inevitable consequence is that in future the movements and pro- 
ceedings of Germans in other countries will be watched with intense 
suspicion, and if Governments do not prevent the sort of thing depicted 
by Mr. Raemaekers the people will see to it themselves. The cartoon 
is not, of course, intended to reflect personally on the owner of Krupp's 
works, who is said to be a gentle-minded and blameless lady. It is her 
misfortune to be associated by the chance of inheritance with the 
German war machine and one of the underhand methods by which it has 
pursued its aims. 

A. SHADWELL. 



172 




ON CONCRETE FOUNDATIONS 
Big Bertha: "What a charming view over Flushing harbour! May I build 
a villa here?" 

173 



Pallas Athene 

H 



AS it come to this?" Well may the Goddess ask this question. Times are 
indeed changed since the heroic days. Germany has still her great Greek 
scholars, one or two of them among the greatest living, men who know, and 
can feel, the spirit, as well as the letter, of the old Classics. Do they remember to- 
day what the relation of the Goddess of Wisdom was to the God of War, in Homer, 
when, to use the Latin names which are perhaps more familiar, to the general 
reader than the Greek, Mars "indulged in lawless rage," and Jove sent Juno and 
Minerva to check his "f rightfulness?" 

"Go! and the great Minerva be thine aid; 
To tame the monster-god Minerva knows, 
And oft afflicts his brutal breast with woes." 

and how the hero Diomede, with Minerva's aid, wounded the divine bully and sent 
him bellowing and whimpering back, only to hear from his father the just rebuke: 
"To me, perfidious! this lamenting strain? 

Of lawless force shall lawless Mars complain? 

Of all the gods who tread the spangled skies, 

Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes! 

Inhuman discord is thy dear delight, 

The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight!" 

It is most true. Such has ever been War for War's sake, and when the Germans 
themselves are wounded and beaten, they complain like Mars of old of "lawless force." 
But Raemaekers has introduced another touch more Roman than Greek, and 
reminding us perhaps of Tacitus rather than of Homer. 

Who was Caligula, and what does his name mean? "Little Jack-boots," in his 
childhood the spoiled child of the camp, as a man, and Caesar, the first of the 
thoroughly mad, as well as had, Emperors of Rome, the first to claim divine honours 
in his lifetime, to pose as an artist and an architect, an orator and a litterateur, to 
have executions carried out under his own eyes, and while he was at meals; who 
made himself a God, and his horse a Consul. 

Minerva blacking the boots of Caligula — it is a clever combination ! 
But there is an even worse use of Pallas, which War and the German War-lords 
have made. They have found a new Pallas of their own, not the supernal Goddess 
of Heavenly Wisdom and Moderation, but her infernal counterfeit, sung of by a famous 
English poet in prophetic lines that come back to us to-day with new force. 
Who loves not Knowledge, who shall rail 
Against her beauty, may she mix 
With men and prosper, who shall fix 
Her pillars? let her work prevail. 

Yes, but how do the lines continue? 

What is she cut from love and faith 

But some wild Pallas from the brain 

Of Demons, fiery hot to burst 

All barriers in her onward race 
For power? Let her know her place, 
She is the second, not the first. 

Knowledge is power, but, unrestrained by conscience, a very awful power. 

This is the Pallas whom the "Demons," from whose brain she has sprung, are 
using for their demoniac purposes. She too might have her portrait painted — and 
they. Perhaps Raemaekers will paint them both before he has done. 

HERBERT WARNER. 

174 




Pallas Athene: "Has it come to this?" 



175 



The Wonders of Culture 

OF ALL forms of "Kultur" or " f rightfulness " that which mate- 
rializes in the "the terror which flieth by night" is to the 
intelligent mind at one and the same time the most insensate 
and damnable. It fails to accomplish, either in Paris or in London, the 
subjugation by terror of the people for which Germans seem to hope. 
It is only in German imagination that it accomplishes "material and 
satisfactory damage to forts, camps, arsenals, and fortified towns." 
In reality it inflicts misery and death upon a mere handful of people 
(horrible as that may be) and destroys chiefly the homes of the poor. 
It serves no military end, and the damage done is out of all proportion 
to the expenditure of energy and material used to accomplish it. 

The fine cartoon which Raemaekers has drawn to bring home to 
the imagination what this form of "Kultur" stands for makes it 
easy for us in London to sympathize with our brothers and sisters in 
Paris. We have as yet been spared daylight raids in the Metropolitan 
area, and so we needed this cartoon to enable us to realize fully what 
"Kultur" by indiscriminate Zeppelin bombs means. 

Who cannot see the cruel drama played out in that Paris street? 
The artist has assembled for us in a few living figures all the actors. The 
dead woman; the orphaned child, as yet scarcely realizing her loss; 
the bereaved workman, calling down the vengeance of Heaven upon 
the murderers from the air; the stern faces of the sergents de ville, 
evidently feeling keenly their impotence to protect; and in the back- 
ground other sergents, the lines of whose bent backs convey in a mar- 
vellous manner and with a touch of real genius the impression of tender 
solicitude for the injured they are tending. And faintly indicated, 
further still in the background, the crowd that differs little, whether it 
be French or English, in its deeper emotions. 

CLIVE HOLLAND. 



176 




THE WONDERS OF CULTURE 



177 



"Folk Who Do Not Understand Them" 

HOW often have I been asked by sorrow-stricken mothers and wives: "Why 
does not Providence intervene either to stop this war, or at least to check its 
cruelties and horrors?" If for many amongst us not yet bereaved this 
European massacre is a puzzle, it should not cause us dismay or surprise, if the widow 
or son-bereaved mother lifts up her hands exclaiming: "Why did not God save him? 
Why did He let him be shot down by those Huns?" 

Truth to tell, God has, so to speak, tied up His own hands in setting ours free. 
When He placed the human race upon the surface of this planet He dowered them 
with freedom, giving to each man self-determining force, by the exercise of which 
he was to become better than a man or worse than a beast. Good and evil, like 
wheat and cockle, grow together, in the same field. The winnowing is at harvest- 
time, not before. Meanwhile, we ourselves have lived to see the fairest portions of 
this fair creation of God changed from a garden into a desert — pillaged, ravaged, 
and brought to utter ruin by shot and shell, sword and fire. When I have said this, 
I have but uttered a foreword to the hideous story, spoken the prologue only of 
the "frightful" tragedy. We are all familiar with at least some of the revolting facts 
and details with which the German soldiery has been found charged and convicted 
by Commissions appointed to investigate the crimes and atrocities adduced against 
them. The verdicts of French, Belgian, and English tribunals are unanimous. They 
all agree that Germany has been caught redhanded in her work of dyeing the map of 
Europe red with innocent blood. 

When you bend your eyes to the pathetic cartoon standing opposite this letter- 
press, is there not brought home to you in a way, touching even to tears, the ' ' frightful ' ' 
consequences of the misuse of human powers, more especially of the attribute of 
freedom? If Germany had chosen to use, instead of brute force, moral force, what 
a great, grand, and glorious mission might have been hers to-day. If, instead of 
trying the impossible task of dominating the whole world with her iron hand upon 
its throat and her iron heel upon its foot, she had been satisfied with the portion of 
the map already belonging to her, and had not by processes of bureaucratic tyranny 
driven away millions of her subjects who preferred liberty to slavery, America to 
Germany, by this date she might have consolidated an Empire second in the world 
to none but one. Alas! in her over-reaching arrogance she has, on the contrary, 
set out to de-Christianize, de-civilize, and even de-humanize the race for which 
Christ lived and died. 

Our high mission it is to try to save her from herself. Already I can read written 
in letters of blood carved into the gravestone of her corrupted greatness, 

"Ill-weaved ambition, 
How much art thou shrunk!" 

BERNARD VAUGHAN. 



178 




LES BEAUTES DE LA GUERRE 
Folk who do not understand them. 



179 



On the Way to Calais 

THEY are coming, like a tempest, in their endless ranks of gray, 
While the world throws up a cloud of dust upon their awful way; 
They're the glorious cannon fodder of the mighty Fatherland, 
Born to make the kingdoms tremble and the nations understand. 

Tramp ! Tramp ! Tramp ! the cannon fodder come 
Along their way to Calais; (God help the hearth and home.) 
They'll do his will who taught them, on the earth and on the waves, 
Till land and sea are festering with their unnumbered graves. 

The garrison and barrack and the fortress give them vent; 

They sweep, a herd of winter wolves, upon the flying scent; 

For all their deeds of horror they are told that death atones, 

And their master's harvest cannot spring till he has sowed their bones. 

Into beasts of prey he's turned them; when they show their teeth and 

growl 
The lash is buried in their cheeks; they're slaughtered if they howl; 
To their bloody Lord of Battles must they only bend the knee, 
For hard as steel and fierce as hell should cannon fodder be. 

Scourge and curses are their portion, pain and hunger without end, 
Till they hail the yell of shrapnel as the welcome of a friend; 
They drink and burn and rape and laugh to hear the women cry, 
And do the devil's work to-day, but on the morrow die. 

Drift! Drift! Drift! the cannon fodder go 

Upon their way to Calais, (God feed the carrion crow.) 

They've done his will who taught them that the Germans shall be 

slaves, 
Till land and sea are festering with their unnumbered graves. 

EDEN PHILLPOTTS. 



180 




THE YSER 
'We are on our way to Calais. 



181 



Von Bethmann-Hollweg and Truth 

" Incorrupta Fides, nudaque Veritas." 

Horace. 

"Good Faith unstained, and Truth all-unadorned." 

•iy jUDA VERITAS: it was Horace who in a famous Ode first presented the 
/\ / figure of Truth thus. And whom did he make her companions and sisters? 
1 V They were three, and their names were "Modesty," "Fair Dealing," and 
"Good Faith." The four sisters do indeed go together in a quadruple alliance and 
entente, and when one is flouted or estranged, the others are alienated and become 
enemies too. 

The Germans were believed to be — some few still believe them to be — a "truth- 
loving nation." They had a passion, we were told, for truth, for accuracy, for scientific 
exactness. Theirs might be a blunt and brutal frankness, but they were at least 
downright and truthful. 

Well, they first flouted Modesty — they bragged and blustered, bluffed and 
"bounded." They could not keep it up. They had to act. Fair Dealing went by 
the board. Then Good Faith became impossible, for, as this very von Bethmann- 
Hollweg declared, "Necessity knew no law." Now they have forsaken Truth. 
They must deceive their own people. The "lie" has entered into their soul. Never 
was so systematic a use made of falsehoods small and great. 

But Truth expelled is not powerless. Naked, she is still not weaponless. She has 
her little "periscope," her magic mirror, which shows the liar himself, as well as 
the world, what he is like. And she has another weapon, as those who know 
their "Paradise Lost" will remember: 

"Bright Ithuriel's lance 
Truth kindling truth where'er it glance." 

It is not shown here, for it is invisible, but none the less potent. With it 
Truth can indeed "shame the devil." She not only shows what the liar is like outside, 
but reveals his inner hideousness, and actual shape, for all to see. 

There are many sayings about Truth, and they are all awkward for the liar. 
"Truth will out," said a witty English judge, "even in an affidavit." It will out, 
even in a German Chancellor's dementi. 

The most famous is 

"Magna est Veritas et prawalet" 

"Great is Truth and she prevails," in the end. 

Yes, "She is on the path, and nothing will stop her." She started on the hills 
of the little but free republic of Switzerland ; she is slowly traversing the plains of 
the vast free republic of America. Her last contest will be over the Germans 
themselves. 

HERBERT WARREN. 



182 




.—L'OUiS r"\wrT>n«'Uj'\s . 



VON BETHMANN-HOLLWEG AND TRUTH 
"Truth is on the path and nothing will stay her." 



183 



Van Tromp and De Ruyter 

A GENERATION ago a little clique of wise men at Oxford patted 
themselves on the back for having discovered "The Historical 
Method." But the common people of all countries have always 
known it. The names of the great dead are not forgotten, nor yet the 
great things for which they stood. There may be no strict liturgy for 
the ancestor worship of the West, but that worship is a simple fact, and 
it is a thing that timorous politicians would do well to remember. 
Here Raemaekers appeals to his countrymen to regard their past, to 
be worthy of the great seamen who took the Dutch fleet up the Medway, 
and lashed brooms to the mast-head of the ships that swept the sea 
clear of British enemies. 

The Dutch were fighting for their liberty then. Great Britain is 
fighting for liberty in Europe to-day — and for Dutch liberty to boot. 
The enemy of all liberty uses Holland as a short cut whereby her 
pirates of the air can get more quickly to their murder work in England. 
Would the hero ancestors, of whom the Dutch so boast, have tolerated 
this indignity? The artist seer supplies the answer. 

Note the mixture of the ghostly and the real in this vivid and viva- 
cious drawing. But if it is easy to see through the faint outlines of the 
sailor spirits, it is easier for these gallant ghosts to see through the 
unrealities of their descendants' fears and hesitations. The anger of 
the heroes is plainly too great for words. How compressed the lips! 
How tense the attitude! The hands gripped in the angriest sort of 
impatience! Mark the subtle mingling of seaman and burgher in the 
poise and figures. Mark particularly Van Tromp's stiffened forefinger 
on his staff. 

Is the fate of L19 the fruit of our artist's stinging reminder that 
Holland once had nobler spirits and braver days? 

ARTHUR POLLEN. 



184 




— L.t'i'i'- { ^erhq »l<grj ■ - 



VAN TROMP AND DE RUYTER 

"So long as you permit Zeppelins to cross our land you surely should cease to 
boast of our deeds." 

Whenever a Dutchman wishes to speak of the great past of his country he calls to mind the names of 
these heroes. 

185 



War and Christ 



THE deliberate war made by Prussia in all those areas which she 
can reach or occupy against the symbols and sacred objects of 
the Christian faith is a phenomenon in every way worthy of 
consideration. It is clearly not a matter of accident. The bombard- 
ment at Rheims Cathedral, for example, can be proved to have been 
deliberate. It had no military object; and the subsequent attempts to 
manufacture a military reason for it only produced a version of the oc- 
currence not only incredible but in flat contradiction to the original 
admissions of the Germans themselves. But such episodes as those of 
Rheims and Louvain merely attract the attention of the world because 
of the celebrity of the outraged shrines. All who are familiar with the 
facts know that deliberate sacrilege no less than deliberate rape and 
deliberate murder has everywhere marked the track of the German 
army. 

The offence has been malignant. That does not, of course, mean 
that it has been irrational; quite the contrary. One fully admits 
that Prussia, being what she is, has every cause to hate the Cross, and 
every motive to vent the agonized fury of a lost soul upon things 
sacred to the God she hates. 

The moral suggested by this cartoon of Raemaekers' must not be 
confused with the ridiculous and unhistoric pretence that war itself 
is essentially unchristian. When Mr. Bernard Shaw, if I remember 
right, drew from the affair of Rheims the astonishing moral that we 
cannot have at the same time "glorious wars and glorious cathedrals," 
he might surely have remembered that the age in which Rheims Cathe- 
dral was built, whatever else it was, was not an age of Pacifism. The 
insult to Jesus Christ is not in the sword (which in His own words He 
came to bring), but in the profanation of the sword. It is in cruelty, 
injustice, treachery, unbridled lust, the worship of unrighteous strength 
— in fact, in all that can be summed up in the single word "Prussia." 

CECIL CHESTERTON. 



186 




WAR AND CHRIST 



187 



Barbed Wire 



SAVE for the spiked helmets, the gruesome figures in the fore- 
ground of this cartoon might have belonged in life to any one of 
the warring nationalities. It is a noteworthy fact, however, that 
not one of the nations at war has shown so little care for its dead as 
Germany, whose corpses lie and rot on every front on which they are 
engaged. 

The world cannot blame Germany for the introduction of barbed 
wire as an accessory of war, though it is well known that German wire 
surpasses any other in sheer devilish ingenuity; not that it is more 
effective as an entanglement, but its barbs are longer, and are set more 
closely together, than in the wire used by other nationalities; it is, in 
short, more frightful, and thus is in keeping with the rest of the acces- 
sories of the German war machine. 

But this in the cartoon is normal barbed wire, with its normal 
burden. One may question whether the All-Highest War Lord, who in 
the course of his many inspections of the various fronts must have seen 
sights like this, is ever troubled by the thought that these, his men, lie 
and hang thus for his pleasure, that their ghastly fate is a part of his 
glorious plan. He set out to remake the world, and here is one of the 
many results — broken corpses in the waste. 

Part of the plan, broken corpses in the waste. By the waste and 
the corpses that he made shall men remember the author and framer of 
this greatest war. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



188 




■\-.<.. 






BARBED WIRE 



189 



The Higher Politics 

THERE is a significance in this cartoon which I believe will appeal 
much more strongly to the firing line than to Home. The 
Front distrusts politics, and especially the higher politics. 
That means the juggling and wire-pulling of the Chancelleries, and the 
Front has an uneasy conviction that at the subtleties and craftiness and 
cunning of the diplomatic game we cannot compete with "The Bosche." 
Hard knocks and straight fighting the Front does understand, and at 
that game are cheerfully confident of winning in the long run. 

It would be bitter news to the fighting men that any peace had 
been patched up on any terms but those the Allies soon or late will be in 
a position to dictate, to lay down and say flatly, "Take them and have 
Peace; or leave them and go on getting licked." The Front doesn't like 
War. No man who has endured the horrors and savagery and "blood, 
mud, and misery" of civilized warfare could pretend to like it. No 
man who has endured the long-drawn misery of manning the water- 
logged trenches for days and weeks and months can look forward with 
anything but apprehension to another winter of war. No man who has 
attacked across the inferno of the shell-and-bullet-swept "neutral 
ground," or has hung on with tight-clenched teeth to the battered ruins 
of the forward fire trench under a murderous rain of machine-gun and 
rifle bullets, a howling tempest of shells, an earth-shaking tornado of 
high explosives, can but long for the day when Peace will be declared 
and these horrors will be no more than a past nightmare. 

But the Front will "stick it" for another winter or several winters, 
will go through many bitter attacks and counter-attacks to win the 
complete victory that will ensure, and alone will ensure, lasting peace. 
We know our limitations and our weaknesses. We admit that, as the 
American journalist bluntly put it, we are "poor starters," but we 
know just as surely he was right in completing the phrase, "but darn 
good finishers." Let the "higher politicians" on our side stand down 
and leave the fighting men to finish the argument. Let them keep 
the ring clear, and let the Front fight it out. The Front doesn't mind 
"taking the responsibility," and it will give "Kaiser Bill" and "Little 
Willie" all the responsibilities they can handle before the Great Game 
is over. 

BOYD CABLE. 



190 




^J—joui'-. h~\ciemaeKer-.r 



THE HIGHER POLITICS 
The Kaiser : "We will propose peace terms; if they accept them, we are the gainers; 
if they refuse them, the responsibility will rest with them." 



191 



The Loan Game 



RAEMAEKERS is pitiless, but never oversteps the truth. Na- 
tional Debts are ever national millstones, worn around the neck. 
They are worn unwillingly, and they are not ornamental; 
they are a burden, and the weight is sometimes crushing. A prospect 
of that sort seems to be the lot of several of the "Great Powers" of 
Europe for the remainder, and the greater portion, of the Twentieth 
Century. Though German "civilization" were more worthy of such a 
term and its associations as Kultur ten times over, would it become 
any Potentate and his advisers to impose it on so many countries at 
such a cost in suffering as all this — and more? 

But Kaiser Wilhelm and his crew of State-at-any-price men impose 
not on other peoples only: they impose on their own kith and kin. 
Look at these three sad and apprehensive figures playing the Loan Game 
— the first, the second, the third Loan! Children, says the artist, 
passing the coin from one hand to another's, and getting richer at each 
pass ! ! Yes, children, the German people treated so by a few dominies. 
State dominies and the Director (or dupe!) at Berlin! No people gains, 
every people loses by incurring a Debt; but in Germany, and to-day! 
to incur an indebtedness, contract a loss, does not suffice; the people 
must not know it. 

Even the children know that coin has not left them richer: many, 
very many Germans know the Kultur War to be ruinous: but Berlin 
must play the Game still, and assume that the tricks and aims cannot 
be understood! It is lack of regard for other nations carried into 
German Finance; and all because the bureaucratic military heart is a 
stone. The piling up of State paper goes on, but not merrily, as Michael 
goes from Darlehnkasse to Reichsbank, one, two, three (and is about 
to go the fourth time!). This game of processions to the Kasse does 
not increase the available wealth within beleaguered Germany : and the 
100-mark Note has no reference to material wealth securing it. 

Now, the Commercial magnates of Germany realize the crushing 
fact — No indemnity possible!! and what of the Notes which are held? 
When shades of night fall heavily, and the Loan Game can be played 
no more, will the German people, tricked and impoverished, go to bed 
supperless and silent? German finance IS "a scrap of paper." 

W. M. J. WILLIAMS. 



192 







_i— lou'isp^evno eke t-s 



WE DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS LOAN GAME 



In Germany there is a game by which children passing a coin from one to another 
are supposed to. but do not get richer. 



193 



A War of Rapine 

TRUE, Liebknecht, it is indeed a war of rapine, engendered, 
planned, and brought about by the nation to which you belong. 
Yet, foul as is that nation, its foulness is not greater than your 
futility, by which you show up the strength of that which you oppose 
with as much effect as our own Snowden and Casement can claim for 
their efforts to arrest the work of the Allies. 

Men who claim British birth claim also the quality of loyalty, as a 
rule, and thus there can be little sympathy with such a one as this 
Liebknecht, whom Raemaekers shows as a little ascetic in the presence 
of the sombre War Lord. It is part of the plan of Nature that every 
country shall breed men like this : men who are constitutionally opposed 
to the current of affairs, ridiculously futile, blatantly noisy, the type 
of which extreme Socialists and Syndicalists are made. Possessed of a 
certain obstinacy which is almost akin to courage, they accomplish 
nothing, save to remain in the public eye. 

Such is Liebknecht, apostle of a creed that would save the world 
by the gospel of mediocrity, were human nature other than it is. But, 
in considering this Liebknecht, let us not forget that he has no more love 
for England, or for any of the Allies, than the giant whom he attempts 
so vainly to oppose : he is an apostle, not of peace, but of mere obstruc- 
tion, perhaps well-meaning in his way, but as futile as the Crown Prince, 

and as ludicrous. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



194 




LUTHER-LIEBKNECHT IN THE REICHSTAG 

" It is a war of rapine! On that I take my stand. I cannot do otherwise. 

Liebknecht was the one member who protested against the war. 



195 



The Dutch Junkers 

SOME of these drawings remind us that the great cartoonist's 
message was primarily delivered to his own countrymen. They 
explain why he was accused, but not convicted, of endangering 
the neutrality of the Netherlands. He presents the German monster 
as a menace to all freedom, and not least to the freedom of the Dutch 
people. Germany's allies have sold theirs; they are harnessed to the 
Prussian war chariot, and must drag it whither the driver bids them, 
whip in hand. The nations in arms against Germany are fighting for 
their own and each other's freedom; and the neutrals stand looking 
anxiously on. Raemaekers warns them that their freedom too is at 
stake. He sees that it will disappear if the Allies fail in the struggle, 
and he shows his countrymen what they may expect. 

In every country there are some ignoble souls who would rather 
embrace servitude than fight for freedom. They have a conscientious 
objection to — danger. How far the Dutch Junkers deserve Rae- 
maekers' satire it is not for foreigners to judge. But we know the type 
he depicts — the sporting "nuts," with their careful get-up, effeminate 
paraphernalia, and vacuous countenances. So long as they can wear a 
sporting costume and carry a gun they are prepared to take a menial 
place under a Prussian over-lord and submit with a feeble fatalism to 
the loss of national independence. It is light satire in keeping with the 
subject, and it provides a relief to the sombre tragedy which is the 

artist's prevailing mood. 

A. SHADWELL. 



196 




'-ZLouli'p^-ic- rnci<?fce rX 



THE DUTCH JUNKERS 
"At least we shall get posts as gamekeepers when Germany takes us after the war." 



197 



The War Makers 



w 



HO are the Makers of Wars ? 
The Kings of the Earth. 



And who are these Kings of the Earth ? 

Only men — not always even men of worth, 
But claiming rule by right of birth. 

And Wisdom ? — does that come by birth ? 
Nay then — too often the reverse. 
Wise father oft has son perverse, 
Solomon's son was Israel's curse. 

Why suffer things to reason so averse ? 
It always has been so, 
And only now does knowledge grow 
To that high point where all men know — 
Who would be free must strike the blow. 

And how long will man suffer so ? 
Until his soul of Freedom sings, 
And, strengthened by his sufferings, 
He breaks the worn-out leading-strings, 
And calls to stricter reckonings 
Those costliest things — unworthy Kings. 

Here you have them! — Pilloried for all time! 

And what a crew! These pitiful self-seekers and their dupes! 

Not the least amazing phenomenon of these most amazing times is 
the fact that millions of men should consent to be hurled to certain death, 
and to permit the ruin of their countries, to satisfy the insensate ambi- 
tions of rulers, who, when all is said and done, are but men, and in some 
cases even of alien birth and personally not specially beloved by them. 

Surely one outcome of this world-war will be the birth of a new 
determination in every nation that its own voice and its own will shall 
control its own destinies — that no one man or self-appointed clique shall 
swing it to ruin for his or their own selfish purposes. Who pays the 
piper must in future call the tune. 

"The world has suffered much too long. 
wonder of the ages — 
marvel of all time — 

This wonderful great patience of the peoples! 
How long, Lord, how long?" 

The answer cannot come too soon for the good of the world. 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



198 




VOX POPULI SUPREMA LEX 

The Kaiser: "Don't bother about your people, Tino. People only have to applaud 
what we say." 



199 



M 



The Christmas of Kultur, 
A.D. 1915 

ARY, worn with grief and fear, covers her emaciated face with 
scarred hands, as she kneels in prayer before the infant Jesus. 
Joseph, grown old and feeble, nails up a barricade of planks to 
strengthen the door against the missiles of Kultur already bursting 
through it and threatening the sleeping child. So in that first Christ- 
mas, nineteen centuries ago, he saved Mary's child from the baby- 
massacre ordered by Herod to preserve his own throne. 

Kultur, the gathered wisdom of the ages, has brought us back to 
the same Holy War. What a Christmas! What a Festival of Peace 
and goodwill towards men! 

People ask: Why does God allow it? Is God dead? Foolish ques- 
tions. When I was at school I had the good fortune to be under a great 
teacher whose name is honoured to-day. He used to tell us that the 
most terrible verse in the Bible was: "So He gave them up unto their 
own hearts' lust and they walked in their own counsels" (Ps. lxxxi, 13). 

Man has the knowledge of good and evil; he has eaten of the tree 
and insists on going his own way. He knows best. Is not this the age 
of science and Kultur? We must not cry out if the road we have 
chosen leads to disaster. 

Yet still the Child of Christmas lives and a divine light shines round 

His head. He sleeps. 

A. SHADWELL. 



200 




CHRISTMAS EVE 
Joseph: "The Holy War is at the door! 



201 



Serbia 



GENIUS has set forth the most brutal characteristic of the Hun. 
In moments of triumph, invariably he is the bully, and, as 
invariably, he wallows in brutality — witness Belgium under his 
iron heel and, in this cartoon, stricken Serbia impotent to ward off the 
blow about to be dealt by a monstrous fist. That is the Teuton con- 
ception of War, Merry War (Lustige Krieg) ! In the English prize-ring 
we have an axiom indelibly impressed upon novices — "Follow up one 
stout blow with another — quick!" That, also, is the consummate 
art of war. But when a man is knocked out we don't savage him 
as he lies senseless at our feet. The Hun does. His axiom is — "As 
you are strong, be merciless!" fc 

In the small pig-eyes, in the gross, sensual lips, the mandril-like 
jaw, the misshapen ear, I see not merely a lifelike portrait of a Hun 
but a composite photograph of all Huns, something which should hang 
in every house in the kingdom until the terms of such a peace have 
been imposed which will make the shambles in Belgium, Poland, and 
Serbia an eternal nightmare of the past, never to be repeated in the 
future. And over the anaemic hearts of the Trevelyans, the Ramsay 
MacDonalds, the Arthur Ponsonbys, who dare to prattle of a peace 
that shall not humiliate Germany, I would have this cartoon tattooed, 
not in indigo, but in vermilion. 

If Ulysses Grant exacted from the gallant Robert Lee "Uncondi- 
tional Surrender," and if our generation approves — as it does — that 
grim ultimatum, what will be the verdict of posterity should we as a 
nation — we who have been spared the unspeakable horrors under which 
other less isolated countries have been "bled white" — descend to the 
infamy of a compromise between the Powers of Darkness and Light? 
The Huns respect Force, and nothing else. Mercy provokes contempt 
and laughter. I hold no brief for reprisals upon helpless women and 
children; I am not an advocate of what is called the "commercial 
extermination of Germany"; but it is my sincerest conviction that 
criminals must be punished. The Most Highest War Lord and his 
people, not excluding the little children who held high holiday when 
the Lusitania was torpedoed, are — criminals. 

HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL. 



202 




SERBIA 



203 



The Last of the Race 

RAEMAEKERS, the master of an infinite variety of moods and 
touch, reserves a special category of scorn for Von Tirpitz. 
Savage cruelty in war, the wanton destruction of life and prop- 
erty, the whole gospel of Rightfulness — these things have been aban- 
doned (so the historians tell us), not because savagery was bad morals, 
but because it was the worst way of making war. It was wiser to take 
the enemy's property and put it to your own use than to destroy it. 
If it was plundered it was wasted. It was wiser to spare men, women, 
and children, so that they should be better subjects if they remained 
conquered, less irreconcilable enemies, if they were restored to their 
old allegiance. Besides, murder, plunder, and rapine demoralized your 
men. They made them less efficient troops for fighting. Doubtless 
the argument is sound. But it would never have been accepted had 
not the horrors of savagery been utterly loathsome and repulsive to the 
nations that abandoned them. 

Conventions in the direction of humanity are not, then, artificial 
restrictions in the use of force. They are natural restrictions, because 
all Christian and civilized people would far rather observe them than 
not. Germany has revelled in abandoning every restraint. Raemaek- 
ers shows the cruelty, the wickedness of this in scores of his drawings. 
Here it is its folly that he emphasizes. 

The submarine is no longer a death-dealing terror. It has become 
a blubbering fish. And the author of its crimes is no diabolical triton, 
but a semi-imbecile old dotard, round whom his evil — but terrified — 
brood have clustered; they fawning on him in terror, he fondling 
them in shaky, decrepit fondness. Note the flaccid paunch, the with- 
ered top, and the foolish, hysterical face. How the full-dress cocked 
hat shames his nakedness! 

And this, remember, is the German High Admiral as history will 
know him, when the futility of his crimes is proved, their evil put 
out of memory, and only their foolishness remains! 

ARTHUR POLLEN. 



204 




THE LAST OF THE RACE 

Von Tirpitz: No, my dears, I'm not sending any more of you to those wicked 
English; the survivors shall go to the Zoo." 



205 



The Curriculum 



THE nations are being educated amain, let us hope. Germany 
has prided herself on her education, her learning, and on her 
Kultur. To-day she is beyond the calculation of all that fore- 
sight which has been her boast, and foible. Human nature, other than 
German, has not been on the national curriculum, and, as in other 
departments of study, what has not been reduced to rule and line is 
beyond the ken and apprehension. How stupendously wrong a Power 
which could count, and into a European War! on insurrection in India, 
the Cape, and other parts of the British Empire! and how naively did 
Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg disclose the Zeitgeist of German rulers 
when with passion he declared Britain to be going to war for "a scrap 
of paper!" A purpose to serve, a treaty becomes "a scrap" — in 
German courtly hands. 

The artist depicts a scene, with masterly pencil, where Von Beth- 
mann-Hollweg himself is charged by the All-Highest to be schoolmaster. 
It is a grim department of the training. Think of the unseen as well 
as that shown. What you do see is the lordly, truculent Kaiser, raising 
that menacing finger again. In spacious chair, he sits defiant, aggres- 
sive, as a ferocious captain; and there opposite is the "great Chancel- 
lor." bent, submissive, apprehensive, tablet and pencil ready to take 
down the very word of Kaiserly wisdom and will. What is it? The 
day's fare for a week! reaching a climax of "No dinner" on Saturday, 
and "Hate" on Sunday! Educative! of course it will be. 

Some day, not so far, even the German people will not regard the 
orders of the Army and Navy Staff, the cruel mercies of the Junkers, 
as a revelation of Heaven's will. Three pounds of sugar for a family's 
monthly supply will educate, even when the gospel of force has been 
preached for fifty years to a docile people. Many of us are in "a 
strait betwixt two" as we see how thousands of inoffensive old men, 
women, and children are made to suffer, are placed by the All-Highest 
in this Copper and Hate School. It is not this, that, and the other 
that causes this, but the Director of the School, who does not, while 
the miserable scholars do, know what it is to endure "No dinner," 
not only on Saturdays, but many other days. And all to gratify the 
mad projectors imposing Kultur on an unwilling world! 

W. M. J. WILLIAMS. 



206 




,-Lmis r~VTemr<eL-<?rs. 



THE NEW SCHOOL CURRICULUM 
William: "Write it down, schoolmaster— Monday shall be Copper Day; Tuesday, 
Potato Day; Wednesday, Leather Day; Thursday, Gold Day; Friday, Rubber Day; 
Saturday, No Dinner Day: and Sunday, Hate Day!" 

207 



The Dutch Journalist to His 
Belgian Confrere 

WHETHER the type here taken is a true criticism of a commer- 
cial attitude in a neutral State like Holland, it does not 
become us to discuss. Raemaekers is a Dutchman, and 
doubtless a patriotic Dutchman. And the patriot, and the patriot 
alone, has not only the right but the duty of criticising his own country. 

For us it is better to regard the figure as an international, and often 
anti-national, character who exists in all nations, and who, even in a 
belligerent country like our own, can often contrive to be neutral 
and worse than neutral. A prosperous bully with the white waistcoat 
and coarse, heavily cuffed hands, with which such prosperity very 
frequently clothes itself, is represented as thrusting food in the starved 
face of an evicted Belgian and saying: "Eat and hold your tongue." 

The situation is worthy of such record, if only because it emphasizes 
an element in the general German plot against the world which is often 
forgotten in phrases about fire and sword. The Prussianized person 
is not only a military tyrant; he is equally and more often a mercantile 
tyrant. And what is in this respect true of the German is as true or 
truer of the Pro-German. 

The cosmopolitan agent of Prussia is a commercial agent, and 
works by those modern methods of bribing and sacking, of boycott 
and blackmail, which are not only meaner, but often more cruel, than 
militarism. For any one who realizes the power of such international 
combinations, there is the more credit due to the artists and men of 
letters who, like Raemaekers himself, have decisively chosen their 
side while the issue was very doubtful. And among the Belgian 
confreres there must certainly have been many who showed as much 
courage as any soldier, when they decided not to eat and be silent, 
but to starve and to speak. 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



208 




The Dutch Journalist to His Belgian Confrere: "Eat and hold your tongue. 



209 



A Bored Critic 



FROM Homeric warfare to subterranean conflict of modern trenches 
is a far cry, and Ares, God of Battles, may well yawn at the enter- 
tainment with which the Demon of War is providing him. But 
the spectator of this grim "revue" lacks something of the patience of its 
creator, and our Mephistopheles, marking the god's protest, will doubt- 
less hurry the scene and diversify it with new devilries to restore his 
interest. Indeed, that has happened since Raemaekers made his 
picture. 

The etiquette of butchery has become more complicated since Troy 
fell, yet it has been so far preserved till now that the fiend measures 
Ares with his eyes and speculates as to how far the martial god may 
be expected to tolerate his novel engines. Will asphyxiating gas, 
and destruction of non-combatants and neutrals on land and sea, trouble 
him? Or will he demand the rules of the game, and decline to applaud 
this satire on civilization, although mounted and produced regardless 
of cost and reckoning? 

As the devil's own entertainment consists in watching the effects of 
his masterpiece on this warlike spectator, so it may be that those who 
"staged" the greatest war in mankind's history derive some bitter in- 
struction from its reception by mankind. They know now that it 
is condemned by every civilized nation on earth; and before these 
lines are published their uncivilized catspaws will have ample reason 
to condemn it also. Neutrals there must be, but impartials none. 

The sense and spirit of the thinking world now go so far with 
human reason that they demand a condition of freedom for all men 
and nations, be they weak or powerful. That ideal inspires the ma- 
jority of human kind, and it follows that the evolution of morals sets 
strongly on the side of the Allies. 

"War," says Bernhardi, "gives a biologically just decision, since 
its decisions rest on the very nature of things." So be it. 

EDEN PHILLPOTTS. 



210 




_]_. o u'islr '- 1 -"-- h®t"S 



say, do suggest something new. This is becoming too boring. 



211 



"The Peace Woman" 

IN THIS humorous yet pathetic cartoon — humorous because of its 
truth to the type, and pathetic because of the futility of the effort 
depicted — with unfailing skill the artist shows the folly of the cry 
"Peace! Peace!" when there is none. In the forefront is a type 
of woman publicist who can never be happy unless the limelight secured 
by vocal effort and the advocacy of a "crazy" cause is focussed upon 
her. She calls "Peace!" that the world may hear, not attend. Behind 
her stands that other type of detached "peace woman," who has, 
judging from her placid yet grieved expression, apparently scarcely 
realized that the War is too serious and has its genesis in causes too 
deep-rooted to be quelled by her or her kind. One can imagine her 
saying: "A war! How terrible! It must be stopped." 

The soldier, who is wise enough to prefer armour-plate even to a 
shield provided by substantially built peace women clad in white, looks 
on amused. The thinking world as a whole so looks on at "Arks" 
launched by American millionaire motor manufacturers, and at Pacifist 
Conferences held whilst the decision as to whether civilization or savag- 
ery shall triumph, and might be greater than right, yet hangs in the 
balance. There must be no thought of peace otherwise than as the 
ultimate reward of gallant men fighting in a just cause, and until with 
it can come permanent security from the "Iron Fist" of Prussian 
Militarism and aggression, and the precepts of Bernhardi and his kind 
are shown to be false. Those who talk of peace in the midst of "fright- 
fulness," of piracy, of reckless carnage and colossal sacrifices of human 
life which are the fruits of an attempt to save by military glory a 
crapulous dynasty, however good their intention, lack both mental and 
moral perspective. 

CLIVE HOLLAND. 



212 




The Peace Woman: "We will march in white before our sons." 
The Neutral Soldier: "Madam, we would prefer the protection of an armour- 
plate." 



213 



The Self-satisfied Burgher 

THE artist has depicted the ordinary attitude of a self-satisfied 
burgher not only in Holland but in other countries also. "What 
does it matter if we are annexed afterwards, so long as we re- 
main neutral now?" That is the sort of speech made by selfish mer- 
chants in some of the neutral countries, especially those of Scandinavian 
origin. It is really a variety of the old text: "Let us eat, drink, and be 
merry; for to-morrow we die." Why not, it is urged, make the best of 
present facilities? As long as we are left alone we can pursue our 
ordinary industrialism. We can heap up our percentages and profits. 
Our trade is in a fairly flourishing condition, and we are making money. 
No one knows what the future may bring; why, therefore, worry about 
it? Besides, if the worst comes to the worst and Germany annexes us, 
are we quite sure that we shall be in a much worse condition than we are 
now? It will be to the interest of Berlin that we should carry on our 
usual industrial occupations. Our present liberty will probably not be 
interfered with, and a change of masters does not always mean ruin. 

So argues the self-satisfied burgher. If life were no more than a 
mere matter of getting enough to eat and drink and of having a balance 
at the banker's, his view of the case might pass muster. But a national 
life depends on spiritual and ideal interests, just as a man's life "con- 
sisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." 
Freedom is the only principal of growth, and freedom is the one thing 
which German militarism desires to make impossible for all those whom 
she gathers into her fold. The loss of liberty means the ruin of all 
those ends for which a State exists. Even the material prosperity 
which the self-satisfied burgher desires will be definitely sacrificed by 
a submission to Teutonic autocracy. 

W. L. COURTNEY. 



214 




-? A n Kaotri -en -OrvV. 




j^U.S 



THE SELF-SATISFIED BURGHER 
"What does it matter if we're annexed afterwards, so long as we remain neutral 

now ? " 

215 



The Decadent 



WAR is a fiery winnower of incapacities. Many reputations 
have gone to the scrap-heap since August, 1914. None more 
surely than that of the braggart Crown Prince. It is said 
that this terrible catastrophe was largely of his bringing about and his 
great desire and hope. 

Well — he has got his desire, and more than he expected. 
He was going to do mighty things — to smash through the frontier 
and lead the German hordes triumphantly through France. And 
what has he done? 

In the treacherous surprise of the moment he got across the frontier, 
and there the weighty French fist met the Imperial optic, and has since 
developed many stars in it. He has been held, wasting men, time, 
opportunity, and his own little apology for a soul. He has done 
nothing to justify his position or even his existence. He has wrecked 
his home-life by wanton indulgence. He has made himself notorious 
by his private lootings of the chateaux cursed with his presence. 

Even in 1870 the native cupidity of the far finer breed of conquerors 
could not resist the spoils of war, and, to their eternal disgrace, train- 
loads of loot were sent away to decorate German homes — as burglars' 
wives might wear the jewellery acquired by their adventurous menfolk 
in the course of their nefarious operations. 

But we never heard of "Unser Fritz," the then Crown Prince, 
ransacking the mansions he stayed in. He was a great man and a 
good — the very last German gentleman. And this decadent is his 
grandson ! 

"Unser Fritz" was a very noble-looking man. His grandson — oh, 
well, look at him and judge for yourselves! Of a surety the sight 
is calculated to heighten one's amazement that any nation under 
the sun, or craving it, could find in such a personality, even as repre- 
sentative of a once great but now exploding idea, anything whatever 
even to put up with, much less to worship and die for. 

The race of Hohenzollern has wilted and ravelled out to this. The 
whole world, outside Prussia, devoutly hopes ere long to have seen 
the last of it. 

It has been at all times, with the single exception above noted, a 
hustling, grabbing, self-seeking race. May the eyes of Germany soon 
be opened! Then, surely, it will be thrust back into the obscurity 
whence heaven can only have permitted it to escape for the flagellation 
of a world which was losing its ideals and needed bracing back with a 
sharp, stern twist. 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



216 




jouisr^'afmap k^rs- — 



SEPTEMBER, 1914, AND SEPTEMBER, 1915 
1914: "Now the war begins as we like it." 
1915: "But this is not as I wished it to continue." 

(Published after the French success in Champagne.) 

217 



Liquid Fire 



WHEN one sits down to think, there are few things in con- 
nection with the devastating War now raging, wild-beast- 
like, almost throughout the length and breadth of Europe, so 
appalling as the application of science and man's genius to the work of 
decimating the human species. 

Early in the conflict, which is being fought for the basal principles 
of civilization and moral human conduct, one was made to realize 
that the Allied Powers were opposed to an enemy whose resources 
were only equalled by his utter negation of the rules of civilized warfare. 
Soon, to the horrors of machine-guns and of high-explosive shells of 
a calibre and intensity of destructive force never before known, were 
added the diabolical engines for pouring over the field of battle as- 
phyxiating gases. We know the horrors of that mode of German 
" f rightfulness, " and some of us have seen its effects in the slowly dying 
victims in hospitals. But that was not enough. Yet other methods 
of " f rightfulness " and savagery, which would have disgraced the 
most ruthless conquerors of old, were to be applied by the German 
Emperor in his blasphemous "Gott mit uns" campaign. And against 
the gallant sons of Belgium, France, England, and Russia in turn 
were poured out with bestial ingenuity the jets and curtains of "liquid 
fire" which seared the flesh and blinded the eyes. For this there will 
be a reckoning if God be still in heaven whilst the world trembles with 
the shock of conflict, and the souls of men are seared. 

Raemaekers in this cartoon shows not only the horror of such a 
method of warfare, but also, with unerring pencil, the unwavering 
spirit of the men who have to meet this "f rightfulness." There is 
a land to be redeemed, and women and children to be avenged, and 
so the fighting men of the allied nations go gallantly on with their stern, 
amazed faces set towards victory. 

CLIVE HOLLAND. 



218 




LIQUID FIRE 



219 



Nish and Paris 



VERY happily and very graphically has Raemaekers here pointed 
the contrast between the Gargantuan hopes with which the 
Kaiser and his Junker army embarked on the War, and the 
exiguous and shadowy fruits of their boasted victories up to the pres- 
ent. They foretold a triumphal entry into the conquered capital 
of France within a month of the opening of hostilities. Yet the irony 
of Fate has, slowly but surely, cooled the early fever of anticipation. 
The only captured town where the All-Highest has found an oppor- 
tunity of lifting his voice in exultant paean is Nish, a secondary city 
of the small kingdom of Serbia. There, too, he perforce delayed his 
jubilation until the lapse of some eighteen months after the date 
provisionally and prematurely fixed in the first ebullition of over- 
confidence, for his triumphal procession through Paris. 

Nish is a town of little more than 20,000 inhabitants; about the 
size of Taunton or Hereford — smaller than Woking or Dartford. 
Working on a basis of comparative populations, the Emperor would 
have to repeat without more delay his bravery at Nish in 150 towns 
of the same size before he could convince his people that he is even 
now on. the point of fulfilling his first rash promises to them of the 
rapid overthrow of his foes. Pursuing the same calculation, he is 
bound to multiply his present glories 350 times before he can count 
securely on spending a night as conquering hero in Buckingham Palace. 

Even the Kaiser must know in his heart that woefully, from his own 
and his people's point of view, did he overestimate his strength at 
the outset. For the time he contents himself with the backwater of 
Nish for the scene of his oratory of conquest. His vainglorious words 
may well prove in their environment the prelude of a compulsory 
confession of failure, which is likely to come at a far briefer interval 
than the eighteen months which separate the imaginary hope of Paris 
from the slender substance of Nish. 

SIDNEY LEE. 



220 






Hh !ft§ 






I -"-"" ;| 




THE TRIALS OF A COURT PAINTER 
"I commenced this as the entry into Paris, but I must finish it as the entry into 

Nish." 

221 



Gott Strafe England! 

IN THESE sombre times one is grateful for a touch of humour, and it 
would perhaps be impossible to conceive in all created nature a 
spectacle so exquisitely ludicrous as the appearance of the Prus- 
sian in the guise of a Wronged Man. For, of course, it is the very 
foundation of the Prussian theory that there can be no such thing as a 
wronged man. Might is right. That which physical force has 
determined and shall determine is the only possible test of justice. 
That was the diabolic but at least coherent philosophy upon which 
the Kingdom of Prussia was originally based and upon which the 
German Empire created by Prussia always reposed. 

Nor was that philosophy — which among other things dictated 
this war — ever questioned, much less abandoned, by the Germans so 
long as it seemed probable to the world and certain to them that they 
were destined to win. Now that it has begun to penetrate even into 
their mind that they are probably going to lose, we find them sud- 
denly blossoming out as pacifists and humanitarians. 

Especially are they indignant at the "cruelty" of the blockade. 
It is not necessary to examine seriously a contention so obviously 
absurd. Any one acquainted with the history of war knows the 
blockade of an enemy's ports is a thing as old as war itself. Every one 
acquainted with the records of the last half-century knows that Prussia 
owes half her prestige to the reduction of Paris in 1871 — effected solely 
by the starvation of its civilian inhabitants. 

But the irony goes deeper than that. Look at the face of the 
Prussian in "Raemaekers' Cartoons" and you will understand why Ger- 
mans in America, Holland, and other neutral countries are now talking 
pacifism and exuding humanitarian sentiment. You will understand 
why the German Chancellor says that in spite of the victorious march 
of Germany from victory to victory his tender heart cannot but plead 
for the dreadful sufferings of the unhappy, though criminal, Allies. 
Then you will laugh; which is good in days like these. 

CECIL CHESTERTON. 



222 




GOTT STRAFE ENGLAND! 
" Now she prevents my sending goods by the Holland route! " 



223 



The Pacificist Kaiser 
(The Confederates) 

FROM time to time of late the Kaiser has posed as the champion 
of peace. His official spokesman, Chancellor Bethmann-Holl- 
weg, has announced the Imperial readiness to stay the war — 
on his master's own terms, which he disdains to define precisely. 

The Emperor and his advisers are involved in a tangle of mis- 
calculations which infest the conduct of the war alike in the field of 
battle and the council-chamber. But no wild imaginings could en- 
courage a solid hope that the Chancellor's peaceful professions would 
be taken seriously by anybody save his own satellites. Loudly the 
compliant Minister vaunted in the Reichstag his country's military 
successes, but he could point to no signs either of any faltering in 
military preparations on the part of the Allies, or of their willingness 
to entertain humiliating conditions of peace. 

Even- in Germany clear visions acknowledge that Time is fighting 
valiantly on the side of Germany's foes, and that peace can only come 
when the Central Powers beg for it on their knees. 

It is improbable that the Kaiser and his Chancellor now harbour 
many real illusions about the future, although they may well be 
anxious to disguise even to themselves the ultimate issues at stake in 
the war. Their home and foreign policy seems to be conceived in the 
desperate spirit of the gambler. They appear to be recklessly specu- 
lating on the chances of a pacificist role conciliating the sympathy of 
neutrals. They count on the odds that they may convert the public 
opinion of non-combatant nations to the erroneous belief that Ger- 
many is the conqueror, and that further resistance to her is futile. 
But so far the game has miscarried. The recent German professions 
of zeal for peace fell in neutral countries on deaf or impatient ears. 
The braggart bulletins of the German Press Bureau have been valued 
at their true worth. Neutral critics have found in Bethmann-Holl- 
weg's cry for peace mere wasted breath 

The Chancellor and his master are perilously near losing among 
neutrals the last shreds of reputation for political sagacity. 

SIDNEY LEE. 



224 




THE CONFEDERATES 

Did they believe that peace story in the Reichstag, Bethmann?' 
Yes, but the Allies didn't." 



225 



Dinant 



DURING the joint expedition to Peking, all the other contin- 
gents were horrified at the cruelty of the German troops. I 
have heard how on one occasion a number of Chinese women 
were watching a German regiment at drill, when suddenly the com- 
manding officer ordered his men to open fire upon them. When re- 
monstrated with, he replied that terrorism was humane in the end, 
because it made the enemy desire peace. For some reason, these 
atrocities were not very widely known in England ; and no one dreamed 
that such infernal crimes would ever be perpetrated in European war. 
But such are indeed the calculated methods of Germany; and her 
officers began to order them as soon as her troops crossed the Belgian 
frontier. The German military authorities advise that terrorism should 
be used sparingly when there is danger of reprisals. Accordingly, 
though many abominable things have been done to civilians in France 
and Russia, and to ourselves when opportunity offered, the worst 
atrocities were committed in Belgium, because Belgium is a small 
country, which had dispensed with universal military service in 
reliance on the international guarantee of her security. These events 
of the first month of the war are in danger of being forgotten, now that 
Germany is contending on equal terms against the great nations of 
Europe. But they must not be forgotten. We are fighting against a 
nation which thinks it good policy to massacre non-combatants, 
provided only that the sons and brothers of the victims are not in a 
position to retaliate. 

W. R. INGE. 



226 







DINANT— I SEE FATHER. 



22: 



re 



S 



Hesperia" (Wounded First) 

AILORS of all nationality except German have from time im- 
memorial looked upon themselves as the guardians and pro- 
tectors of land folk at sea. 



That is why every sailor in the world, outside the doggeries of 
Hamburg, felt his calling spat upon and his personal pride injured by 
the sinking of the Lusitania — by a sailor. 

It seemed that nothing could be worse than that, and then came 
the sinking of the Hesperia, a ship filled with wounded soldiers and 
Hospital nurses. 

Raemaekers brings the fact home to us in this cartoon, not the fact 
of the English nurses' heroism, which goes without saying, but of 
German low-down common infamy. The fact has become so com- 
monplace, so accustomed, so everyday that pictures of burning cathe- 
drals, murdered children, and terrified women no longer move us as 
they did, but this artist, whose command of language seems as infinite 
and varied as the crimes of the criminals whom God sent him to 
scourge, has always some stroke in reserve, something to add to what 
he has said, if need be. In the case of this picture it is the medicine 
bottle, glass, and spoon flying off the shelf, flung to the floor by the 
bursting charge of Tri-nitro-toluine that adds the last touch as dis- 
tinctive as the artist's signature. 

H. DE VERE STACPOOLE. 



228 




Another kind of heroisim — the sinking of the Hospital Ship Hesperia (Wounded First) 



229 



Gallipoli 



IT IS a fine touch, or a fortunate accident, in this sketch of Rae- 
maekers' that it depicts the officer who has made the mistake as 
exhibiting the spruceness of a Prussian, and the officer who has 
found out the mistake as having the comparatively battered look of 
an old Turk. The moustaches of the Young Turk are modelled on the 
Kaiser's, spikes pointing to heaven like spires; while those of his 
justly incensed superior officer hang loose like those of a human being. 
The difference is in any case symbolic; for the sort of instinctive and 
instantaneous self-laudation satirized in this cartoon is much more one 
of the vices of the new Germany than of the antiquated Islam. That 
spirit is not easy to define; and it is easy to confuse it with much more 
pardonable things. Every people can be jingo and vainglorious; it is 
the mark of this spirit that the instinct to be so acts before any other 
instinct can act, even those of surprise or anger. Every people 
emphasizes and exaggerates its victories more than its defeats. But 
this spirit emphasizes its defeats as victories. Every national calam- 
ity has its consolations; and a nation naturally turns to them as soon 
as it reasonably can. But it is the stamp of this spirit that it always 
thinks of the consolation before it even thinks of the calamity. It 
abounds throughout the whole press of the German Empire. But it 
is most shortly shown in this figure of the young officer, who makes a 
hero of himself before he has even fully realized that he has made a 
fool of himself. 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



230 




GALLIPOLI 
Turkish General: "What are you firing at? The British evacuated the place 

twenty-four hours ago!" 
"Sorry, sir — but what a glorious victory! 

231 



The Beginning of the Expiation 

IT IS sometimes an unpleasant necessity to insult a man, in order 
to make him understand that he is being insulted. Indeed, 
most strenuous and successful appeals to an oppressed populace 
have involved something of this paradox. We talk of the demagogue 
flattering the mob; but the most successful demagogue generally 
abuses it. The men of the crowd rise in revolt, not when they are 
addressed as "Citizens!" but when they are addressed as "Slaves!" 

If this be true even of men daily disturbed by material discomfort 
and discontent, it is much truer of those cases, not uncommon in 
history, in which the slave has been soothed with all the external 
pomp and luxury of a lord. So prophets have denounced the wan- 
ton in a palace or the puppet on a throne; and so the Dutch caricaturist 
denounces the gilded captivity of the Austrian Monarchy, of which 
the golden trappings are golden chains. 

But for such a purpose a caricaturist is better than a prophet, 
and comic pictures better than poetical phrases. It is very vital and 
wholesome, even for his own sake, to insult the Austrian. He ought 
to be insulted because he is so much more respectable than the Prus- 
sian, who ought not to be insulted, but only kicked. If Austria feels no 
shame in letting the Holy Roman Empire become the petty province 
of an Unholy Barbarian Empire, if such high historic symbols no 
longer affect her, we can only tell her, in as ugly a picture as possible, 

that she is a lackey carrying luggage. 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



232 




THE BEGINNING OF THE EXPIATION 



233 



The Shirkers 



CURRENT experience is proving that war is a grim condition of 
life, and that none can escape its effects. No religious or 
philosophic precept is potent enough in practical application 
to prevent its outbreak or to stay its course. The strong man of 
military age, who claims the right to pursue normal peaceful avocations 
when his country is at war, pleads guilty, however involuntarily, to 
aberrations of both mind and heart. 

There are few who do not conscientiously cherish repugnance for 
war, but practically none of those to whom so natural a sentiment 
makes most forcible appeal deem it a man's part to refuse a manifest 
personal call of natural duty. The conscientious objector to com- 
batant service may in certain rare cases deserve considerate treatment, 
but very short shrift should await the able-bodied men who, from 
love of ease or fear of danger, simulate conscientious objection in order 
to evade a righteous obligation. 

Lack of imagination may be at times as responsible for the sin of 
the shirker as lack of courage. Patriotism is an instinct which works 
as sluggishly among the unimaginative as among the cowardly and the 
selfish. The only cure for the sluggish working of the patriotic in- 
stinct among the cowardly and the selfish is the sharp stimulus of 
condign punishment. But among the unimaginative it may be worth 
experimenting by way of preliminary with earnest and urgent appeals 
to example such as is offered not only by current experience, but also 
by literature and history. No shirkers would be left if every subject 
of the Crown were taught to apprehend the significance of Henley's 
interrogation : 

What have I done for you, 

England, my England? 
What is there I would not do, 
England, my own? 

SIDNEY LEE. 



234 




THE SHIRKERS 



235 



One of the Kaiser's Many Mistakes 

LOUIS BOTHA— we touch our hats to you! 
You are supremely and triumphantly one of the Kaiser's 
_j many mistakes. You have proved yourself once again a 
capable leader and a man among men. You have proved him once 
more incapable of apprehending the meaning of the word honour. 
You are an honourable man. Even as a foe you fought us fair and we 
honoured you. You have valiantly helped to dig the grave of his 
dishonour and have proved him a fool. We thank you! And we 
thank the memory of the clear-visioned men of those old days who, 
in spite of the clamour of the bats, persisted in tendering you and 
yours that right hand of friendship which you have so nobly justified. 

You fought us fair. You have uprisen from the ashes of the past 
like the Phoenix of old. You are Briton with the best. 

Fair fight breeds no ill-will. It is the man, and the nation, that 
fights foul and flings God and humanity overboard that lays up for 
itself stores of hatred and outcastry and scorn which the ages shall 
hardly efface. 

And Germany once was great, and might have been greater. 

Delenda est Germania ! — so far as Germania represents the Devil 
and all his works. 

The following lines were written fourteen years ago when we wel- 
comed the end of the Boer War. We are all grateful that the hope 
therein expressed has been so amply fulfilled. That it has been so 
is largely due to the wisdom and statesmanship of Louis Botha. 

No matter now the rights and wrongs of it; 
You fought us bravely and we fought you fair. 
The fight is done. Grip hands! No malice bear! 
We greet you, brothers, to the nobler strife 
Of building up the newer, larger life! 

Join hands! Join hands! Ye nations of the stock! 
And make henceforth a mighty Trust for Peace; — 
A great enduring peace that shall withstand 
The shocks of time and circumstance; and every land 
Shall rise and bless you — and shall never cease 
To bless you — for that glorious gift of Peace. 

Germany, if she had so willed, could have come into that hoped- 
for Trust for Peace. 

But Germany would not. She put her own selfish interests before 
all else and so digs her own grave. 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



236 




BOTHA TO BRITAIN 
I have carried out everything in accordance with our compact at Vereeniging. 



237 



Belgium in Holland 

IN THE present crisis of Belgian affairs there is much to remind 
the historical student of the events which led to the fall of Ant- 
werp in 1585, and the outrageous invasion of the Southern 
Netherlands by the army of Parma. Then, as now, Holland opened 
her arms to her wounded and captive sister. The best Flemish 
scholars and men of letters emigrated to the land where Cornheert 
and Spieghel welcomed them. 

Merchants and artisans flocked to a new sphere of energy in 
Amsterdam. Several of the professorial chairs in that city, and in 
the great universities of Ley den and Harderwijk, were filled by learned 
Flemings, and the arts, that had long been flourishing in Brussels, fled 
northward to escape from the desolating Spanish scourge. The grim 
pencil of Raemaekers becomes tender whenever he touches upon the 
relation of the tortured Belgium to her sister, Holland, his own beloved 
fatherland. 

We do not know yet, in this country, a tithe of the sacrifices 
which have been made in Holland to staunch the tears of Belgium. 
"Your sufferings are mine, and so are your fortunes," has been the 
motto of the loyal Dutch. 

EDMUND GOSSE. 



238 




^Lou.sT^— >«■•<<:* • 2I M . 



THE PROMISE 
" We shall never sheath the sword until Belgium recovers all, and more than all that 
she has sacrificed."— Mr. Asquith, 9th November, 1914. 

239 



Serbia 



THE fight of the one and the four might, in view of the difference 
in the size of the combatants, be called quite fairly "the fight 
of the one and the fifty-three." Each of the assailants has 
his own character. Germany is represented as a ferocious giant; 
Austria follows Prussia's lead, a little the worse for wear, with a band- 
aged head as the souvenir of his former campaign : he does his best to 
look and act like Germany. Bulgaria loses not a moment, but puts his 
rifle to his shoulder to shoot the small enemy : he acts in his own way, 
according to his own character: kill the enemy as quickly as possible 
and seize the spoil, that is his principle. Turkey is a rather broken- 
down and dilapidated figure, who is preparing to use his bayonet, 
but has not got it quite ready. Serbia, erect, with feet firmly planted, 
stands facing the chief enemy, a little David against this big Goliath 
and his henchman, Austria; and the other two, so recently deadly foes, 
now standing shoulder to shoulder, attack him while his attention is 
directed on Germany. 

The leader and "hero" of this assault is Prussia, big, brutal, 
remorseless. The Dutch artist always concentrates the spectator's 
attention on him. You can almost hear the roar coming out of his 
mouth: "Gott strafe Serbien." This is the figure, as Raemaekers 
paints him, that goes straight for his object, regardless of moral con- 
siderations. Serbia is in his way, and Serbia must be trampled in the 
mire. The artist's sympathy is wholly with Serbia, who is pictured 
as the man fighting against the brute, slight but active and noble in 
build, facing this burly foe. 

And poor old Turkey ! Always a figure of comedy, never ready in 
time, always ineffective, never fully able to use the weapons of so- 
called "civilization." Let it always be remembered that in the Gal- 
lipoli peninsula, when the Turks at first were taking no prisoners, 
but killing the wounded after their own familiar fashion with mutila- 
tion, for the sake of such spoil as could be carried away, Enver Pasha 
issued an order that thirty piastres should be paid for every prisoner 
brought in alive, a noble and humane regulation. Let us hope that 
the reward was always paid, not stolen on the way, as has been so 
often the case in Turkey. 

WILLIAM MITCHELL RAMSAY. 



240 




f rS _ 



SERBIA 
Now we can make an end of him." 



241 



Jackals in the Political Field 

WHEN the tiger," says the naturalist, "has killed some large 
animal, such as a buffalo which he cannot consume at one 
time, the jackals collect round the carcase at a respectful 
distance and wait patiently until the tiger moves off. Then they rush 
from all directions, carousing upon the slaughtered buffalo, each 
anxious to eat as much as it can contain in the shortest time." 

The human jackal is one of the most squalid and sordid creatures 
and features of war. We saw him in Dublin the other day emerging 
from his slum den to loot Sackville Street. Every battlefield feeds its 
carrion beasts and birds. 

This picture of Belgium and its jackals is doubtless only too true. 
Mr. Raemakers and the Dutch have better means of knowing than we. 
The jackal, says the same naturalist, belongs to the Canidx, the 
"dog tribe." The scientific name of the true dog is Canis familiar is, 
"the household dog." The jackal is Canis aureus, the "gold dog." 
The epithet describes no doubt his colour. The human Canis aureus 
perhaps deserves his title on not less obvious grounds. 

"The continent of Europe," the naturalist goes on, "is free from 
the jackal." It was supposed till yesterday to be free from the lion 
and tiger. 

But in the prehistoric times of the cave man, geologists say, there 
was both in England and Europe the great "sabre-tooth" tiger. 
Kipling, who knows everything about beasts, knows him and puts 
him into his "Story of Ung": "The sabre-tooth tiger dragging a 
man to his lair." 

To-day the cave tiger has come back and with him the cave 
jackal. There is a terrible beauty about the tiger. The jackal is a 
mean and hideous brute. But both are out of date. Did not Mon- 
sieur Capus say the other day that Europe "cannot allow a return of 
the cave epoch?" 

HERBERT WARREN. 



242 




JACKALS IN THE POLITICAL FIELD 
Jackals (Flemish Pro-Germans): "What he leaves of Belgium will be enough for us." 



243 



A Letter from the German 
Trenches 

IN THIS cartoon Raemaekers has contrived to indicate powerfully 
what is after all the dominant and peculiar note of the German 
people. No European nation has ever taken war — as people say 
— so "seriously," that is, with so much concentration of attention and 
elaborate preparation, as has the German Empire. No people has ever 
had it so thoroughly drilled into its collective mind as have the German 
subjects of that Empire that war is not only, as all Christian people 
have always believed, an expedient lawful and necessary upon oc- 
casion, but a thing highly desirable in itself, nay, the principal function 
of a "superior" race and the main end of its being. 

And yet after all the actual German is never, like the Frenchman, 
a natural and instinctive warrior — any more than he is, like the 
Englishman, a natural and instinctive adventurer. The whole busi- 
ness of Prussian militarism, with the half-witted philosophy by which 
it is justified, has to be imposed upon him from without by his masters. 
He fights just as he works, just as he tortures, violates, and murders, 
because he is told to do so by persons in a superior position, holding 
themselves stiffly, dressed in uniform, and able to hit him in the face 
with a whip. 

Long before the war the absurd Koepenick incident gave us a 
glimpse of this astonishing docility on its farcical side. Its tragic 
side is well illustrated by the droves of helpless and inarticulate bar- 
barians driven into the shambles daily (as at Verdun) for the sole 
purpose of covering up the blunders of their very "efficient" superiors. 
One could pity the wretches if there were not so considerable a leaven 
of wickedness in their stupidity. 

CECIL CHESTERTON. 



244 




A LETTER FROM THE GERMAN TRENCHES 
We have gained a good bit; our cemeteries now extend as far as the sea. 



245 



His Master's Voice 

THE manipulation of the Press is one of the weapons which 
Bismarck taught German Imperialism to use. Like others it 
has been developed by his successors into an instrument which 
the master himself would hardly have recognized. It is one of the 
most potent means of that "peaceful penetration" of all other coun- 
tries which was nothing but a preparation for war. And it has been 
used in the war with a purposefulness of aim and a versatility of method 
that betoken long and systematic study. It is a ubiquitous influence 
and the most subtle of all. Yet the Press is held in greater contempt 
by official and other ruling circles in Germany than in any other 
country. They despise the tool, while tacitly acknowledging its utility 
by unsparing use. 

This curious state of things is the fault of the Press. What has 
rendered it such a pliant tool in the hands of German Imperialism 
is either credulity or venality; and both are contemptible qualities. 
Credulity is probably the more prevalent, at least in this country, 
where shoals of newspapers, blinded by their own prejudices, were the 
dupes of German duplicity. But there has been venality, too, both 
crude and subtle. The case of the "Vlaamsche Sten," here satirized 
by Raemaekers, is exceptional. So crude and gross a method of 
influencing the Press as bribing the proprietor of a newspaper (prob- 
ably with the aid of threats) to hand it over with its staff and good- 
will could hardly be practised where any independence survived. It 
was not practised with success even in conquered Flanders, for the 
staff, to their eternal credit, refused to listen to the new master's 
voice. But there are journalists who, less intelligent than the terrier, 
faithfully accept the voice from the Pickelhaube and wag their little 
tails when they hear it. To them is offered the parable which shows 

their relation to their master. 

A. SHADWELL. 



246 







HIS MASTER'S VOICE 

The Vlaamsche Stem (Flemish Voice), a Flemish paper, was bought by the Germans, 
whereupon the whole staff resigned, as it no longer represented its title. 



247 



Hun Generosity 



THE All-Highest, so we are told, loves a joke at another's expense, 
a trait in his character essentially barbaric. Raemaekers 
reproduces the twinkle in the Imperial eye as William of 
Potsdam offers to a quondam ally the foot which belongs to his senile 
and helpless brother of Hapsburg. The roar of anguish from the 
prostrate octogenarian provokes, as we see, not pity but a grim smile. 
Italy's monarch, we may imagine, is muttering to himself: — 

Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. 

The bribe, wrenched from another, was, of course, indignantly re- 
jected, but one wonders what the secret feelings of the Hapsburgs 
may be toward the Hohenzollerns. We know that the Turk cherishes 
no love for the Hun who has beguiled him, but we cannot gauge as yet 
the real strength or weakness of the bond between the Huns on the one 
hand and the Austrians and Hungarians on the other. Raemaekers 
has portrayed Franz Josef flat on his back. In the language of the 
ring he is "down and out." Possibly it may have been so from the 
beginning. At any rate, in this country, there is an amiable dis- 
position to regard Franz Josef as a victim rather than an accomplice, 
a weakling writhing beneath the jack-boot of Prussia, impotent to 
hold his own. It may not be so. Time alone will reveal the truth. 

But this much is reasonably certain. When peace is declared, the 
sincere friendship which once existed between ourselves and the Dual 
Monarchy may be reestablished, but many years must pass before we for- 
give or forget the Huns. They are boasting to-day that as a nation they 
are self-sufficing and self-supporting. Amen! Most of us desire nothing 
better than to leave them alone till they have mended their manners 
and purged themselves of a colossal and unendurable conceit. I 
cannot envisage Huns playing tennis at Wimbledon, or English girls 
studying music at Leipzig. The grass in the streets of Homburg will 
not, for many years, be trodden out by English feet; the harpies of 
hotel keepers throughout the Happy Fatherland will prey, it may be 
presumed, upon their fellow Huns. Then they will fall to "strafing" 
each other instead of England. And then, as now, their mouthings 
will provoke inextinguishable laughter. 

HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL. 



248 




•HAVE ANOTHER PIECE? 



249 



Easter, 1915 



EVER since with the beginning of Christendom a new soul 
entered the body of exhausted Europe, it is true to say that we 
have not only had a certain idea but been haunted by it, as by 
a ghost. It is the idea crystallized in legends like those of St. Chris- 
topher and St. Martin. But it is equally apparent in the most modern 
ethics and eloquence, as, for instance, when a French atheist orator 
urged the reconsideration of a criminal case by pointing at the pic- 
tured Crucifixion which hangs in a French Law Court and saying: 
"Voila la chose jugee." It is the idea when that oppressing the 
lowest we may actually be oppressing the highest, and that not even 
impersonally, but personally. We may be, as it were, the victims of a 
divine masquerade; and discover that the greatest of kings can travel 
incognito. 

Such a picture, therefore, as the cartoonist has drawn here can be 
found in all ages of Christian history as a comment on contemporary 
oppression. But while the central figure remains always the same, the 
types of the tyrant and the mocker hold our temporary attention; for 
they are sketched from life and with a living exactitude. Upon one of 
them especially it would be easy to say a great deal: the grinning 
Prussian youth with the spectacles and the monkey face, who is using 
a Prussian helmet instead of the crown of thorns. 

Such a scientific gutter-snipe is the real and visible fruit of or- 
ganized German education; he is a much truer type than any gory 
and hairy Hun. In the face of that young atheist there is everything 
that can come from the congestion of the pagan with the parvenu; all 
the knowingness that is the cessation of knowledge; and that something 
which always accompanies real atheism — arrested development. 

G. K. CHESTERTON. 



250 




---L'j^fy-'-'' 



EASTER, 1915 
'And the}' bowed the knee before Him. 



251 



Pan Germanicus as Peace Maker 

IMAGINE the feelings of the hindlegs of a stage elephant on being 
told that the performance is to be a continuous one and you will 
have some inkling of the dismay of the Kaiser and his henchman, 
concealed in the plumage of the War Eagle and the Dove of Peace 
respectively. The one bird is as useless as the other in bringing the 
war to the end desired in Berlin. The stage eagle is daily losing its 
plumage, and is rapidly becoming but a moulty apology for the 
king of birds. As for the dove, it has been used so often, with con- 
stantly changing olive branch in its beak, that it now makes its ap- 
pearance shamefacedly and absolutely without heart. 

Imperial eagle mask with half-mad military quasi-deity inside and 
dove of peace, on the German model, with calculating miscalculating 
statesman, you rang the curtain up, you cannot ring it down, either 
to the music of the Hymn of Hate or the Te Deum for peace— the 
eagle can no longer look boldly straight into the sun, looking for his 
place in it; the dove has taken permanent quarters in the German ark 
as it whirls round and round in the whirlpool of impotent effort, ever 
drawing nearer to the final crash. When the Dove of Peace does come, 
it will be a real bird of good omen, not a German reserve officer mas- 
querading as one. 

ALFRED STEAD. 



252 




-Lows rY»emae|<eri 



PAN GERMANICUS AS PEACE MAKER 
The Dove: "They say they do not want peace, as they have time enough. 
The Eagle: "Alas! That is just what we haven't got." 

253 



Gott Mit Uns 



THIS picture is a perfectly accurate symbolic study of the Ger- 
man Empire. Therefore, naturally, it is one of the most 
dreadful that were ever drawn. In all the gruesome "Dances 
of Death" in which the fifteenth century took so grim a pleasure, no 
artist ever conceived the horrible idea of a fat skeleton. But we have 
not only conceived the thought, we have seen the thing — "a terror in 
the sunshine." We know that chest, puffed up with a wind of pride, 
and that stomach heavy with slaughter and rich living; and above 
them the Death's Head. We have seen it. We have felt its foul 
breath. Its name is Prussia. 

Look at a portrait of Frederick the Great, the "onlie true beget- 
ter" of this abortion. It oddly suggests what Raemaekers has set down 
here: the face a skull, the staring eyes those of a lost soul. But the 
skeleton has grown fat since Frederick's day — fat on the blood and 
plunder of nations. Only there is no living flesh on its bones, nothing 
of humanity about it. 

"Can these dry bones live?" was the question asked of the 
prophet. It might have been asked of Frederick: "Can this nation 
live, created of your foul witchcraft, without honour, without charity, 
without human brotherhood or fellowship, without all that which is 
the flesh and blood of mankind?" The answer must have been that 
it could live, though with a life coming from below and essentially 
infernal. It could live — for a time. It could even have great power 
because its time was short. 

But now it has waxed fat — and kicked. And its end is near. 

CECIL CHESTERTON. 



254 




[& u Isf-^a e m ae [ <»*»*- n 



IT'S FATTENING WORK 



255 



Our Lady of Antwerp 

HERE I and sorrows sit. This is my throne, bid Kings come 
worship it." Such seems to be an appropriate legend for 
Raemaekers' beautiful triptych which he has entitled "Our 
Lady of Antwerp." Full of compassion and sympathy for all the 
sufferings of her people, she sits with the Cathedral outlined behind 
her, her heart pierced with many agonies. On the left is one of the 
many widows who have lost their all in this war. On the right is a 
soldier stricken to death, who has done his utmost service for his 
country and brings the record of his gallantry to the feet of Our Lady 
of Antwerp. 

Antwerp, as we know, was at the height of its prosperity in the 
sixteenth century. We have been told that no fewer than five hun- 
dred ships used to enter her port in the course of a day, while more than 
two thousand could be seen lying in her harbour at one time. Her 
people numbered as many as one million, her fairs attracted merchants 
from all parts of Europe, and at least five hundred million guilders 
were put into circulation every year. We know what followed. 
Its very prosperity proved a bait to the conqueror. In 1576 the city 
was captured by the Spaniards, who pillaged it for three days. Nine 
years later the Duke of Parma conquered it, and about the time when 
Queen Elizabeth was resisting the might of Spain Antwerp's glory 
had departed and its trade was ruined. At the close of the Napoleonic 
wars the city was handed over to the Belgians. 

A place of many memories, whose geographical position was well 
calculated to arouse the cupidity of the Germans, was bound to be gal- 
lantly defended by the little nation to which it now belonged. Whether 
earlier help by the British might or might not have altered the course 
of history we cannot tell. Perhaps it was not soon enough realized 
how important it was to keep the Hun invader from the sacred soil. 
At all events we do not look back on the British Expedition in aid of 
Antwerp in 1914 with any satisfaction, because the assistance rendered 
was either not ample enough or else it was belated, or both. So that 
Our Lady of Antwerp has still to bewail the ruthless tyranny of Berlin, 
though perhaps she looks forward to the time when, once more in 
possession of her own cities, Belgium may enter upon a new course of 
prosperity. We are pledged to restore Belgium, doubly and trebly 
pledged, by the words of the Prime Minister, and justice will not be 
done until the great act of liberation is accomplished. 

W. L. COURTNEY. 



256 




OUR LADY OF ANTWERP 



257 



Deportation 



NOTHING, when one analyzes it, could be imagined more thor- 
oughly characteristic of Prussia than the particular stroke of 
policy by which a large proportion of the male population of 
Belgium— as also in a somewhat lesser degree of Northern France- 
was separated from its family ties and hurried away into exile in 
Germany, there to be compelled to work for the profit of enemies. 

It had all the marks of Prussianism. 

Firstly, it was a violation of the civilized and Christian tradition of 
European arms. By the rules of such warfare the non-combatant 
was spared, wherever possible; not only his life but his property and 
liberty were secure so long as he did not abuse his position. 

Secondly, it was an affront to decent human sentiment quite 
apart from technical rules; the man, guilty of no offence save that of 
belonging to a country which Prussia had invaded without justice 
and ravaged without mercy, was torn from his family, who were left 
to the mercy of their opponents. We all know what that mercy was 
like. 

Thirdly, it was an insult to the human soul, for the unfortunate 
victims were not only to be exiled from their country, but to be driven 
by force and terror to serve against it. 

Fourthly, and finally, like all the worst Prussian crimes, it was a 
stupid blunder. Prussia has paid already a very high price for any 
advantage she may have gained from the mutinous and unwilling 
labour of these men, and for the swelling of her official return for the 
edification of her own people and of neutrals by the inclusion of "pris- 
oners of war" of this description. To-day, when she knows not where 
to turn for men, she is obliged to keep a huge garrison tied up in 
Belgium to guard her line of retreat. And when the retreat itself 
comes, the price will rise even higher, and the nemesis will be both just 

and terrible. 

CECIL CHESTERTON. 



258 




k^TS, -5= 



HUSBANDS AND FATHERS 
Belgian workmen were forcibly deported to Germany. 



259 



The German Band 

THE German Band, as we know it in this country, has never 
been noted for harmonious music. Blatancy, stridency, false 
notes, and persistency after the coppers, have been its chief 
characteristics. 

And the same things prevail when it is at home. 

Never since the world began has there been such a campaign of 
barefaced humbug and lying as that organized by William, Hinden- 
burg, Hollweg and Co. for the deceiving and fleecing of the much-tried 
countries temporarily under their sway. 

But the money had to be got in by hook or by crook, and by hook 
and by crook and in every nefarious way they have milked their unfor- 
tunate peoples dry. 

But there is another side to all this. In time, the veil of lies and 
false intelligence of victories in the North Sea, and at Verdun, and, 
indeed, wherever Germany has fought and failed, will be rent by the 
spear of Truth. 

Then will come the debacle. And then, unless every scrap of grit 
and backbone has been Prussianized out of the Teuton, the revulsion 
of feeling will sweep the oppressors out of existence; and Germany, 
released from the strangle-hold, may rise once more to take the place 
among the civilized nations of the world which, by her foul doings of 
the last two years, she has deliberately forfeited. 

JOHN OXENHAM. 



260 




WAR LOAN MUSIC 
"Was blazen die Trompeten Moneten heraus?' 



261 



Arcades Ambo 



LOOKING at this cartoon one can understand why Raemaekers 
is not persona grata in the Happy Fatherland. With half a 
J dozen touches he has changed Satan from the magnificent 
Prince of Evil whom Gustave Dore portrayed into a — Hun. Hence- 
forth we shall envisage Satan as a Hun, talking the obscene tongue — 
now almost the universal language in Hades — and hailed by right- 
thinking Huns as the All Highest War Lord. Willy senior must be 
jealous. 

With the learned Professor, the cartoonist not only produces a 
composite portrait of all the Her r en Professor en, but also drives home 
the point of his amazing pencil into what is perhaps the most instruc- 
tive lesson of this monstrous war — the perversion to evil uses of powers 
originally designed, nourished, and expanded to benefit mankind. 
When the Furor Teutonicus has finally expended itself, we do not envy 
the feelings of the illustrious chemists who perfected poison gas and 
liquid fire ! Will they, when their hour comes, find it easy to obey the 
poet's injunction, and, wrapping the mantle of their past about them, 
"lie down to pleasant dreams?" 

We are assured that these professors have not exhausted their 
powers of frightfulness. It may be so. This is certain : Such fright- 
fulness will ultimately exhaust them. With this reflection, we may 
leave them, grist to be ground by the mills of God. 

HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL. 



262 




ARCADES AMBO 

The Professor: "I have discovered a new mixture which will blind them in 
half an hour." 
Satan: "You are in very truth my master." 



263 



"Is It You, Mother?" 

SINCE the opening of hostilities in the present war the Scottish 
regiments have given repeated proofs of a valour which adds 
new lustre to the great traditions of Scottish soldiership. 
Through all the early operations — on the retreat from Mons and at the 
battles of the Marne and the Aisne — the Royal Scots Guards, the 
Scots Greys, the Gordon, the Seaforth and the Argyll and Sutherland 
Highlanders, the King's Own Scottish Borderers gained many fresh 
laurels by their heroism and undaunted spirit. The London Scottish 
Territorials, too, have shown a prowess as signal as that of the Scots 
of the Regular Army; while the mettle of men of Scottish descent has 
made glorious contribution in France and elsewhere to the fine records 
of the Overseas armies. 

It is the inevitable corollary that death should levy a heavy toll on 
Scottish soldiers in the field. Thousands of kilted youth have suf- 
fered the fate which Raemaekers depicts in the accompanying cartoon. 
It is not, of course, only the young Scot whose thought turns in the 
moment of death to the hearth of his home with vivid memories of his 
mother. But the word "home" and all that the word connotes often 
makes a more urgent appeal to the Scot abroad than to the man of 
another nationality. There is significance in the fact that, far as the 
Scots are wont to wander over the world's surface, they should, under 
every sky and in every turning fortune, treasure as a national anthem 
the song which has the refrain: — 

"For it's hame, an' it's hame, fain wad I be, 
0! it's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!" 

The German soldier in this war would seem to have lost well nigh 
all touch of humanity. Yet the draughtsman here suggests that even 
the German soldier on occasion yields to the pathos of the young Scot's 
death-cry for home and mother. There is grim irony in the dying 
man's blurred vision which mistakes the hand of his mortal foe for 
that of his mother. 

Of such trying scenes is the drama of war composed. 

SIDNEY LEE. 



264 




•IS IT YOU, MOTHER 



265 



The Fate of Flemish Art at the 
Hands of Kultur 

IT WILL not be possible to estimate the injury suffered by the 
monuments of art wherein Belgium was so rich till the war is 
ended and the ruins examined. Much of the irreparable loss 
we know, as in the cases of Louvain and Ypres. In general we may 
fairly conjecture that whatever is portable behind the German lines 
is stolen, or will be, and the rest destroyed. What is portable is stolen 
for its cash value, just as are money, furniture, clothes, and watches. 
So much of respect for works of art we may expect from the Prussians 
— the measure of respect for the cash shewn by the Prussian general 
at Termonde who robbed a helpless civilian of the 5,000 francs he had 
drawn to pay his workmen's wages, and then called earth and heaven 
to witness his exalted virtue in not also murdering his victim. But 
what cannot be carried — a cathedral, a monument, an ancient window 
— that is destroyed with an apish zest. Even a picture in time or 
place, inconvenient for removal, that also will be defiled, slashed to 
rags, burnt. And indeed why not? For the best use of a work of art 
as understood among the Prussian pundits is to make it the peg where- 
on to hang some ridiculous breach of statistics, some monstrous 
disquisition of bedevilled theory; and for such purposes a work no 
longer existing so as good as any — even better. 

And so the marvels of the centuries go up in dust and flames, 
and the memorials of Memling and Matsijs, Van Eyck, and Rubens 
are treated as the masters' own bodies would have been treated, had 
fate delayed their time till the coming of the Boche. 

ARTHUR MORRISON. 



266 




THE FATE OF FLEMISH ART AT THE HANDS OF KULTUR 



267 



The Graves of All His Hopes 

LOOK at the map," says the German Chancellor. Look at the 
map, and mark with a cross every German disappointment 
"^ and you will have a history of the war more illuminating 
than many books on the subject. The Marne, Ypres, South Africa, 
West Africa, Egypt, Bagdad, India, Tripoli, Verdun. Look at the 
map indeed. The map of the world that Germany set out to conquer. 
Consider the vapouring and vainglory that marked each of these 
"successes" in political or military trickery and the fact that of the 
military crosses each upbears above a mountain of losses the refrain 
of the old German song Verdorben- -Gestorben — Ruined — Dead. 

It is a wonderful map to consider, this map of the world in 1916. 
A wonderful map to be studied by the mothers of the Fatherland who 
have suckled their children to manure the crops of the future, to feed 
the crematoriums and blast furnaces of Belgium, to fill the mad 
houses, blind asylums, and homes for incurables, when the frosts 
of Russia and the guns of the Allies have done with them. 

And every cross marks the grave of a hope. 

Paris 
Regrets eternels. 

That wonderful inscription was the first to be cut. Galliene was 
the mason. Verdun was the last and will not be the least. But, what- 
ever may come to be written on stone, on the heart of the mourner 
when he comes to die only one inscription will be found: "Calais." 
If he has a heart large enough to have even these six letters. 

H. DE VERE STACPOOLE. 



268 




^^ 



THE GRAVES OF ALL HIS HOPES 



269 



T 



r My Sixth Son Is Now Lying 
Here — Where Are Yours?" 

HERE is a picture in Brussels that the Kaiser ought to study 
on one of his visits to the Belgian capital. It is Wertz's 
picture of Napoleon in Hades. 



Wertz was a madman, he knew something of the horrors of war, 
but he knew, also, something of the grandeur and nobility of Napoleon. 

Napoleon is surrounded by women holding up the mutilated 
remains of sons, lovers, and fathers, and still he remains Napoleon, 
the child of Destiny, the Inscrutable, the Calm, and, if one may say so, 
the Gentleman. 

Women knew, at least, that their dead had fallen before the armies 
or at the will of a great man in those Napoleonic days; there was some- 
thing of Fate in the business. 

But to-day the widow or the mourning mother, whilst knowing 
that her son or her husband has fallen in defending Humanity from 
the Beast can find no quarter in their hearts for the form or the shape 
of manhood that stands, in the words of Swinburne: 

"Curse consecrated, crowned with crime and flame!" 

No taunt could be too bitter for their lips and none more bitter 
than the words of Raemaekers: 

"My sons are lying here — where are yours?" 

H. DE VERE STACPOOLE. 



270 




•MY SIXTH SON IS NOW LYING HERE— WHERE ARE YOURS? 



271 



Bunkered 



THE Crown Prince is in a very awkward predicament. He has 
driven his ball into a deep sand-pit from which a very clever 
professional golfer might perhaps extricate himself by a power- 
ful stroke with a niblick. But young William is not a professional, 
and indeed knows nothing about the game. So he takes his driver 
and his other wooden clubs, and smashes them all, with much bad 
language, while he whacks at the ball, which only buries itself deeper 
in the sand. He is pondering what to do next. There is, however, 
only one thing to do. He must take up his ball and lose the hole. 
The real players on his side must be disgusted at being saddled with 
such a partner. But what is to be done when a fool is born a war-lord 
by right of primogeniture? In a few years, in the course of nature, 
this fortunate youth will be the Supreme War-Lord himself; it will 
be his business to "stand in shining armour" by some luckless ally who 
has been selected to pick a quarrel for Germany's benefit, and to 
shake a "mailed fist" in the face of a trembling world. That will be a 
spectacle for gods and men. But perhaps something will happen 
instead. 

L j W. R. INGE. 



272 





BUNKERED 



273 



Gott Strafe Verdun 

AN IMPARTIAL military verdict on the German strategy and 
A-\ tactics at Verdun has not yet been delivered. After 
the failure of the Allies to break through last year, the German 
higher command issued a paper, which has been printed in American 
newspapers, advocating "nibbling" tactics, instead of attempts to 
carry a strongly fortified line by a coup de main. The Germans have 
buoyed up their hopes by assuring each other that their troops have 
been making a slow but methodical progress toward the "fortress/' 
according to program. But even if we grant that the disproportion 
in casualties is probably not so great as some of our critics have sup- 
posed, it is difficult to believe that the enemy was prepared for such 
resistance as he has met with. To all appearance, the Germans 
expected to break through in a few days, and hoped that this success 
would rehabilitate the credit of the paltry young prince whom we 
here see entangled in barbed wire, his uniform in rags, and despair 
depicted on his haggard face. Another confessed failure would 
finish the career of the Crown Prince; and yet there are limits to the 
endurance of any troops, and these limits have now been reached. 
There is nothing left to young William but useless imprecations. He 
swaggered into this war, for which he is partly responsible, expecting 
to win the reputation of a general; he will sneak out of it with the 
reputation of a burglar. 

W. R. INGE. 



274 




GOTT STRAFE VERDUN 
if only I knew whether it is less dangerous to advance or to retire. 



275 



The Last Throw 

THE first throw, of course, was that great rush which was 
stayed at the Marne by the Genius of Joffre; then there was 
the throw of the great attack on Russia, that which laid 
waste Serbia, and that which would have thrust men down from the 
Alps on to the Italian plain. In each of these Raemaekers' symbolism 
is applicable, for in each case death threw higher than either Germany 
or Austria could afford. 

But in none is the symbolism so terribly fitting as in this case of 
Verdun, where the fighting men went forward in waves and died in 
waves — here death threw higher in every attack than Germany could 
throw, and to such heights was the slaughter pushed that it was, in 
truth, the last throw of which these war-makers were capable. It is 
significant, now that Germany can no longer afford such reckless 
sacrifices as were made before Verdun, that the German press con- 
tains allusions to heavy sacrifices on the part of the Allies, and tries to 
point to folly in allied policy. Surely, in the matter of sacrifice of 
life, no nation is so well qualified to speak from experience as Germany. 

There is clumsy anxiety expressed in every line of the figure that 
holds the dice box, and in every line of the figure in the background is 
nervous fear for the result of the throw — fear that is fully justified. 
But Death, master of the game, waits complacently to mark the 
score, knowing that these two gamblers are the losers — and that the 
loser pays. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



276 




THE LAST THROW 



2" 



The Zeppelin Bag 

HERE the artist has depicted the Kaiser in one of his favourite 
roles, that of a sportsman. In pre-war times it was one of 
"The All Highest's" chief ambitions to be taken for an Eng- 
lish sportsman ! We believe there were people in those now seemingly 
remote days who took him at his own valuation in this regard. Our 
picture papers were full of photographs of him shooting at this or that 
nobleman's estate, lunching after the morning's battue, in the act of 
shooting, inspecting the day's "bag," etc.; and other pictures were 
reproduced from the German papers from time to time of a similar 
character showing him as a sportsman in his native land. 

There is still, thank God, something clean about British sport and 
sportsmen of which the Kaiser never caught the inwardness and spirit. 
It has come out on the battlefields to-day as it has on those of past 
generations. It has taught the British soldier to fight clean, and even 
chivalrously though the foe may be a past master in "knavish tricks," 
and steeped in unspeakable methods of cruelty in warfare. 

How thin the veneer of a sportsmanship was upon the Kaiser, 
which is after all but symbolic of the higher and sterner virtues, all 
the world has had a chance of judging. And in this remarkable and 
arresting drawing the genius of the artist has taken and used a sporting 
incident with telling and even horrifying effect. 

In the old days it was pheasants, partridges, grouse, hares, rab- 
bits, and other feathered game, with the nobler stags and boars that 
formed ''the Butcher of Potsdam's 'bag.'" To-day he has his 
battues by proxy on sea, land, and from the air. Thousands of vic- 
tims, as innocent as the feathered folk he slaughtered of yore; and 
women and little children form the chief items of the bag; and es- 
pecially is this true of the "fruit of the Zeppelin raids." 

He counts the bag and rewards the slayers of the innocent as he 
doubtless did the beaters, huntsmen, and keepers of the estates over 
which he formerly shot. It has been his ambition to make Europe 
one vast Kaiserdom estate. But the sands are running out, and each 
"bag," whether by Zeppelin or submarine, serves but to stiffen the backs 
of the Allies and horrify neutral nations. Some day the accumulated 
horrors of the Kaiser's ideas of sportsmanship will have taught the 
latter the lesson that Kaiserdom with Europe as a Kaiser estate means 
the death of liberty, the extinction of the smaller nations, and the 
setting up of a despotism as cruel as that of Attila and his Huns— the 
self-accepted and preached examples of William II of Germany. 

CLIVE HOLLAND. 



278 




THE ZEPPELIN BAG 



279 



"Come in, Michael, I Have Had 
a Long Sleep" 

YES — a long and rejuvenating sleep! The expression upon 
John's face indicates an amazing determination and alertness. 
It is told of certain remarkable men — De Lesseps amongst 
the number — that they had the faculty of sleeping for several days 
and nights and then remaining wide awake and at full tension for an 
equally long period of time. We may confidently predict that John 
has this faculty. He is not likely to slumber again till his work is 
done, and done thoroughly. Michael's expression, I regret to note, is 
not quite so pleasing as John's. It gives "furiously to think," as our 
gallant and beautiful France puts it, that when Michael climbs through 
the window of the Happy Fatherland, he may, perchance, inspire 
terror in the heart of the Hun, who doubtless expects that his enemies, 
if they do invade the sacred soil, will display those Christian qualities 
of Mercy and Forbearance which have been so conspicuous, by their 
absence, in the treatment of unfortunate prisoners upon whom they 
inflicted the extreme rigour of "Kultur." 

Our cartoonist, it will be noticed, has placed sledge hammers 
in the hands of both John and Michael, rather primitive weapons, 
but most admirably adapted for "crushing." And nothing short of 
crushing will satisfy the Allies, despite the futile wiles and whines of 
Messrs. Trevelyan, Ponsonby, Morel, and Macdonald. Crushed they 
will and must be to fine powder. The hammer strokes are falling now 
with a persistence and force which, at long last, reverberates in the 
cafes and beer gardens of Munich and Berlin. The Teuton tongue — 
a hideous concatenation of noise at its best — must be almost inarticu- 
late to-day in its guttural chokings and splutterings. "Frightful- 
ness" is coming home to roost. 

With all our hearts we hold out the glad hand to Michael. 
Come in, and stay in — bless you! 

HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL. 



280 




'COME IN, MICHAEL, I THINK I'M AWAKE NOW" 



281 



Five on a Bench 

ALL visions and poems of justice have been full of the refrain of 
/-\ deposuit potentes de sede; but the bracing reality of such a 
revolution is lost by certain effects of antiquity, by the mists 
which make the past somewhat monochrome, and by the exalted 
equality of death. To say that Belisarius became a beggar means 
little to us when it seems only the difference between a rich and a 
tattered toga. We do not picture Belisarius in a patched pair of 
trousers: but then we have no reason to be angry with Belisarius. 
But whenever real tyranny and honest wrath are reborn among men, 
there will always be an instant necessity to represent the great reversal 
in the graphic colours of contemporary fact. Baemaekers' cartoon, 
representing the tyrants of Europe reduced to that very hopeless 
modern beggary to which they have driven many thousands of very 
much better men, is perhaps of all his pictures the most grim, or what 
would be called vindictive. I think that such revenge is in truth 
merely realization. The victims of the war have to sit on such real 
benches in such real rags. And being one of the fiercest, it is also 
one of the most delicate of the Dutch artist's studies. Nothing could 
be truer than the insolent and swollen decay of the Jew Ferdinant; or 
the more effeminate collapse of the Kaiser, the very spike on whose 
helmet droops with sentiment. 

G. K. CHESTEBTON. 



282 




»ou'i.s Vviemoel-^-rs-.. 






FIVE ON A BENCH 
In a year and a half. 



283 



What About Peace, Lads? 

WAR — so certain of their own prophets have said — is a "national 
industry of Germany." Here we see a German chevalier 
a" Industrie attempting to escape with his swag. Never in 
modern times has a nation gone to war with a more cynical and 
shameless determination to make the campaign pay for itself by the 
plunder of private property. Quite recently an order was found 
on the body of a German, enjoining all officers to assist in the "patri- 
otic duty" of "draining financially the occupied territories." We are 
dealing, not with an honourable and civilized nation, but with a band 
of murdering brigands. The keepers of the national conscience 
have devised a monstrous and barbarous code of ethics, in which 
"patriotism" is the sole duty, and the tribal god the only arbiter of 
right and wrong. As in Roman law, the property of an enemy is for a 
German res nullius — it has no owner. And now the prospect of any 
further loot on a large scale seems remote. The speculation has 
turned out badly, and the robber would be glad to cut his losses. 
The guardians of the law are at his heels, and do not mean to let him 
escape. But will they be able to make him disgorge? That will not 
be easy; and what atonement can be made for the innocent blood 
which drops from those pitiful spoils? 

W. R. INGE. 



284 




WHAT ABOUT PEACE, LADS? 



285 



The Liberators 



THIS is one of those cartoons in which the neutral in Raemaekers 
speaks with peculiar force. Such a picture by a Britisher 
would reasonably be discounted as unduly prejudiced, for it is 
none too easy for us in our present stresses to see the other fellow's 
point of view — in this difficult business of the blockade for an instance. 

That friendly championing of the rights of neutrals suffering 
under the outrageous tyranny of the British Navy is a thing to which 
only the detached humour of a neutral can do justice. He can testify 
to the way in which the giant strength of that navy, whether in peace 
or war, has been used in the main not in the giants' tyrannous way; 
he can make allowance for the exigencies which have caused occa- 
sional arbitrariness under the stress of war or even in some untactful 
moment of peace; he can contrast the two main opposing navy's 
notions of justice, courtesy, seamanship — which is sportsmanship. 

He can recall that no single right whether of combatant or neu- 
tral, of state or individual, guaranteed by international law, which 
the Germans have found it convenient or "necessary" to violate has 
been left unviolated; that there is no single method or practice of war 
condemned by the common consent of civilization but has been 
employed by men who even have the candour to declare that they 
stand above laws and guarantees. 

And therefore he can make grim, effective fun of the sinister 
bandit with his foot planted on the shackled prisoner that lies be- 
tween two murdered victims fatuously taking in vain the name of 
freedom. 

JOSEPH THORP. 



286 




'Freedom of the land is ours — why should we not have freedom of the sea ? 



287 



Tom Thumb and the Giant 

THE reference in this cartoon is to an incident which, at the 
time of its occurrence, is said to have caused considerable 
indignation in Germany. A Zeppelin, having been on a raid- 
ing expedition to England, was hit on the return journey, and dropped 
into the North Sea. The crew, clinging to the damaged airship, 
besought the captain of a British trawler to take them off, but the 
captain, seeing that the Zeppelin crew far outnumbered his own, 
declined to trust them, and left them to their fate. Whether the 
trawler's captain actually "put his thumb unto his nose and spread 
his fingers out" is a matter for conjecture, but under the circum- 
stances it is scarcely likely. 

The whole point lies in the German view of the trawler's captain 
and his inhuman conduct. He knew, perfectly well, that if he 
rescued the crew of the Zeppelin, the probable reward for himself and 
crew would be a voyage to the nearest German port and interment in 
a prison camp for the remainder of the war — and plenty of reliable 
evidence is forthcoming as to the treatment meted out to men in 
German prison camps. He knew, also, that these men who besought 
his aid were returning from one of the expeditions which have killed 
more women and children in England than able-bodied men, that they 
had been sharing in work which could not be described as even of 
indirect military value, but was more of the nature of sheer murder. 
And Germany condemned his conduct by every adjective that implied 
brutality and barbarity. 

The unfortunate thing about the German viewpoint is that it 
takes into consideration only such points as favour Germany, a fact 
of which this incident affords striking evidence. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



288 




- .iv mw **- 







. 



TOM THUMB AND THE GIANT 
'Come and save me. You know I am so fond of children." 



289 



re 



We Have Finished Off the 



R 



ussians' 



A SSUMING that the statement with regard to finishing off the 
/-\ Russians was actually written — and there is every reason to 
assume it — one may conjecture what memories it recalled. 
The great battles of the Warsaw salient, the drive that lasted for 
many months through the flats of Poland, the struggles of the Vilna 
salient, and all the time the knowledge that mechanism, the guns in 
which Germany put her trust, were shattering Russian legions day 
after day. Then the gradual settling of the eastern line, well into 
Russia, with all the industrial districts of Poland firmly gripped in 
German hands, and the certainty that though Russia had not been 
utterly broken and forced to a peace, yet so much had been accom- 
plished that there was no longer any eastern menace, but both Ger- 
many and Austria might go about their business of conquest in the 
west, having "finished off" in the east. 

But that strong figure with the pistol pointed at the writer, that 
implacable, threatening giant, is a true type of Russia the uncon- 
querable. It is a sign that the guns in which Germany put her trust 
have failed her, that the line which was to hold firm during the business 
of conquest in the west has broken — more, it is a sign of the doom of the 
aggressor. The writing of that fat, complacent figure — sorry imitator 
of the world's great conquerors — is arrested, and in place of stolid 
self-conceit there shows fear. 

Well-grounded fear. History can show no crimes to equal the 
rape of Belgium and the desolation of Poland at the hands of Ger- 
many. The giant with the pistol stands not only as a returned war- 
rior, but also as an avenger of unspeakable crimes. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



290 




WE HAVE FINISHED OFF THE RUSSIANS. 
"Wait a moment." 



291 



Muddle Through 

ALTHOUGH this striking cartoon of Raemaekers may, since 
ZA the consummation of Lord Derby's Scheme and the raising 
■L V of the new armies, be said to have lost its sting it cannot be 
said no longer to have a lesson. 

At the time of its first publication the sight of England assailed 
by the central Empires bent on her destruction for having thrown the 
weight of her trident and her sword into the scales on the side of 
Justice and Right against Lawlessness and Might, failed to evoke in 
many of her sons the spirit of patriotism which has since manifested 
itself in many glorious and immortal deeds. 

It was difficult for us to realize that we were at war. And at war 
not merely to protect the weak and uphold ideals of national right- 
eousness, but for national existence itself. The doctrine of "muddle 
through" was not confined to the War Office and other Government 
Departments, but seemed to permeate the whole nation to a lament- 
able extent. In the cartoon we have three typical men with that 
fatal "business (or pleasure) as usual" expression on their faces. 
That Germany should seek to wrest the trident and sovereignty of 
the seas from the hand of Britain, or should have devastated Belgium 
and the North Eastern Department of France was obviously no 
personal concern of theirs. Let the other chaps fight if they would. 

Happily for England and for her gallant Allies the point of the 
cartoon has been blunted, if not entirely destroyed, by subsequent 
events. But the lesson? It is not far to seek. Is it not that had 
"business as usual" not been so gladly adopted as the national 
creed in the early days of war, we might have been happy in the 
blessings of Peace by now, or at least have had Peace much nearer. 

We do not envy the men who might have gone but who stayed 
at home in those early days, when their earlier presence on the field 
of battle might have been the means not only of saving many thou- 
sands of valuable lives, but of shortening the terrible carnage. It 
would have been a thousand times better had the mind which con- 
ceived the phrase "business as usual" been acute enough to foresee the 
possible and disastrous misapplications of the phrase. Rather would 
it have been better had the idea crystallized in "Do it now." 

CLIYE HOLLAND. 



292 




MUDDLE THROUGH 



293 



My Enemy Is My Best Friend 

THESE words of Emerson's express exactly the thought of this 
cartoon. The Netherlands is a country that has been slowly 
won from the ocean; the cruel sea has always been its enemy, 
at first completely triumphant, then gradually resisted and driven 
forth by the enterprise and toil of men; but it is always an enemy to 
be dreaded. Its inroads have to be guarded against by great dykes 
and by the never-ceasing care and industry of the nation. Now and 
again the floods come, and people barely escape in boats from the 
waters. Yet time and again the enemy has been the best friend of the 
Netherlands. This enemy has saved them from the domination of 
Spain, and now, as the refugees on the floods of last winter are escap- 
ing from the jaws of death they feel that the water which is now an 
enemy (vijand), may to-morrow be a friend (vriend); for an invasion 
by the Germans, that ever-dreaded danger to all patriotic Dutchmen, 
can be guarded against only by the friendly help of the ocean which 
can be invoked in case of need to save its own people. It was only 
in the last resort that William the Silent consented to let in the sea. 
He resisted the Spaniards as long as he could, and only when all pos- 
sible chance of further resistance was at an end did he have recourse 
to the sea as the last friend. He saved the country by allowing the 
German Ocean to destroy it. In this cartoon the people in the boats 
regard the sea as their enemy; but an invasion by German armies 
could not be resisted except with the help of the friendly sea, whose 
voice is the voice of Freedom. 

WILLIAM MITCHELL RAMSAY. 



294 




he Floods in Holland — now a fiend, to-morrow a friend. 



295 



How I Deal With the Small Fry 

PERHAPS only those who have the opportunity of reading the 
papers published in neutral countries, and have made a study 
of the mendacious "news for neutrals" issued by the noto- 
rious Woolf Agency and German Wireless Bureau, are able to grasp 
the powerful inner motive which actuates Raemaekers in the per- 
sistence with which he seeks to drive home the tragic stories of Bel- 
gium and Luxemburg. At this time of day it might seem superfluous 
to issue a cartoon of this kind. But is it? With neutral opinion ap- 
parently by no means convinced as yet of the sinister designs of 
Prussianism upon the liberties of Europe and especially of smaller 
nations a drawing of such poignancy and force cannot fail to arrest 
the attention and bring home the lesson of that creed which has for its 
gospel such phrases as "Necessity knows no law" and "Force shall 
rule." It is inconceivable to the thinking mind that there can be a 
man or woman who, with the story of the violation of Belgium and 
Luxemburg before them, can possibly hesitate to brand the German 
nation with the mark of Cain, and tremble at the mere possibility 
that might should triumph over right. 

Our wonderment is all the greater when we remember how the 
Kaiser and his murderous hordes have made no secret of their methods. 
They may in the end seek to deny them, to repudiate the deeds of 
blood and of unholy sacrilege and violence which in the early days of war 
were avowed concomitants of their policy, but such disavowal is not yet. 

Beneath the Kaiser's heel in bloody reality lie at the present 
time Belgium and unprotected Luxemburg every whit as much as is 
shown by the powerful pencil of the artist. 

The reign of lust, cruelty, and destruction is not yet done, though 
the signs and portents of the end are not now a-wanting. The blood 
of men, women, and little children shall not cease to cry aloud for 
vengeance until the Prussian eagle is humbled in the dust, and its 
power for evil is utterly destroyed. This is a good cartoon to bear in 
mind and look upon should "War weariness" ever overtake one. It 
will be a good one to have upon one's wall when peace talk is head 
in the land. 

Thomas Moore may be said to have composed an epitaph for 
Prussianism three-quarters of a century ago when he wrote the lines: 

"Accursed is the march of that glory 
Which treads o'er the hearts of the free." 

A great statesman has declared "the Allies will not sheathe the 
sword until Justice is vindicated." Let us add "and until reparation 
is exacted to the uttermost farthing from these responsible for this 
bloody conflict and its diabolical crimes, whether the perpetrators be 
high or low." 

CLIVE HOLLAND. 



296 




How I deal with the small fry. 



297 



The Two Eagles 

A DOUBLE-EDGED satire on both political birds. Neither is a 
true eagle. They have talons but nothing of the noble air 
proper to the king of birds. The German bird is not an eagle 
but a vulture; and he is in a sorry plight, with torn and ruffled feath- 
ers, dishevelled, dripping blood. He is disappointed, angry, soured, 
and unhappy. Yet he is straightforward about it. He makes no 
attempt to disguise his feelings, but glares at the other with the indig- 
nation of one who has been deceived written on his face and vibrating 
in his voice. 

And his reproach gets home. The American bird, who is bigger 
and stands on a bigger rock, is sleek enough except about the head 
which is a bit ruffled. But he is more of a raven than an eagle in his 
sable plumes of professional cut, and he is obviously not at ease. 
He does not look the other in the face. He stares straight in front 
of him at nothing with a forced, hard and fixed smile, obviously as- 
sumed because he has no reply to make. 

During the war many indiscreet phrases have dropped from the 
lips of prominent persons who must bitterly regret them and wish 
them buried deep in oblivion. But they stand on record, and history 
will not let them die. "Too proud to fight" is the most unfortunate 
of all, and when others are forgotten it will remain, because it has a 
general application. Mr. Raemaekers exposes its foolishness here 
with a single masterly touch and he puts the exposure in the right 
mouth. The cartoon is an illuminating epitome of the interminable 
exchange of notes between the two Powers on submarine warfare. 

A. SHADWELL. 



298 



— 




I^uisT^erwkei-f ~~^ 



I thought you said you were too proud to fight. 



299 



London — Inside the Savoy 

AT A first glance this cartoon would seem to imply that the 
f-\ people inside the Savoy had little interest in the war, for the 
figures in evening dress are well in the foreground; a count of 
heads, however, will show six, and possibly seven men in uniform 
and only four in civilian attire, and of the soldiers not one is dancing — 
they are lookers-on at these strange beings who pursue the ordinary 
ways of life. 

Of such beings, not many are left — certainly not this proportion 
of four to six, or four to seven. Compulsion has thinned the ranks 
of the shirkers down to an irreducible minimum, and a visit to the 
Savoy at any time in the last six months of 1916 would show khaki 
entirely preponderant, just as it is in the streets. These correctly 
dressed and monocled young men have been put into the national 
machine, and moulded into fighting material — their graves are thick 
in Flanders and along the heights north of the Somme, and they have 
proved themselves equal and superior to what had long been regarded 
as the finest fighting forces of Europe. 

It is in reality no far cry from the Somme fighting area to the 
light and the music of the Savoy, and a man may dance one night 
and die under a German bullet the next — many have already done so. 
Here the artist shows the lighter side of British life to-day, but one has 
only to turn to the companion cartoon to this, "Outside the Savoy," 
to see that he realizes London as thoroughly in earnest about the war. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



300 



I 



i II ' , ■' :^s — . ,' \ I** ■ . ,> Li 




-.T^ciemn^C-. 



LONDON— INSIDE THE SAVOY 



301 



London — Outside the Savoy 

THE newsboy, under military age; one man, well over military 
age; three women — and all the rest in uniform — even the top 
of the bus that shows in the distance is filled with soldiers. 
Thus Raemaekers sees the Strand, one of the principal thoroughfares 
of the heart of the British Empire. 

For the sake of contrast with the companion cartoon, "Inside 
the Savoy," there is a slight exaggeration in this view of London 
street life in war-time — the proportion of civilians to soldiers is neces- 
sarily greater than this, or the national life could not go on. A host 
of industries are necessary to the prosecution of the war, and it falls 
to some men to stay behind — many of them unwillingly. 

There was a time, in the early days, when Britain suffered from 
an under-estimate of the magnitude of this task of war — a time which 
the cartoon "Inside the Savoy" typifies in its presentment of careless 
enjoyment. But that attitude was soon dispelled, and it is significant 
of the spirit of the nation that only when nine-tenths of the necessary 
army had been raised by voluntary — indeed, this is a certainty, for 
not until long after the cartoon was published did any conscripts 
appear in the streets. Though, in the proportion of soldiers to civil- 
ians, the cartoon may exaggerate, in its presentment of the spirit of 
the nation, and of the determination of the nation with regard to the 
war, it is true to life. 

E. CHARLES VIVIAN. 



302 




LONDON— OUTSIDE THE SAVOY 



303 



The Invocation 



THIS drawing touches the highest level of the draughtsman's 
art and demonstrates the unique power of the pencil in a 
master hand. So simple, so true, so complete, so direct and 
so eloquent is the message that words can add nothing to it. They 
can only pay a tribute of appreciation. 

Everybody can read the meaning at a glance; none can read it 
wholly unmoved. For here is pure humanity, which none can escape, 
the primal instinct without which man that is born of woman would 
not be. Before this weak, bowed, and homely figure Knowledge is 
silent, Pride and Passion are rebuked. Strength is shamed. Mother- 
hood and mother-love transcend them all. 

There is here nothing of anger, no thought of hostility or revenge, 
no trace of evil passion. Only a mother yearning after her son and 
pleading to another mother, the Divine type of motherhood, the 
Mother of God. And what she asks is so little, only to see him again. 
She has given him, as the mother to whom she prays gave her Son, 
and she does, not demand him back. She reproaches no one, accuses 
no one, makes no complaint and no claim for herself, but meekly 
pleads that she may be allowed to see him again to still the longing in 
her breast. She is a woman of the people, a simple peasant, but she 
personifies all mothers in every war, as she bows her silvered head 
in humble prayer at the way-side shrine. 

A. SHADWELL. 



304 




MON FILS— BELGIUM, 1914 
Let me see him again, Holy Virgin! 



305 




THE COUNTRY UFE PRESS 
GARDEN CITY, N. Y. 



H 52-79 



